With Hope Rekindled
by Minstrel of Fire
Summary: After a certain fateful Agni Kai, Iroh helps a newly banished prince to heal both in body and in spirit. Chapter 5: Zuko gets up for the first time since being wounded, and discussions about why this all happened ensue. On hiatus, but not permanently.
1. Fire Has No Mercy

Disclaimer: I do not, of course, own Avatar or any of these characters.

A/N: That said, i have a few comments about the story. It was fun to write my own take on the duel scene, as well as what might have happened afterwards. Without giving too much away, i've found while reading other fanfics that concern these events that my own is somewhat unusual in how quickly things get rolling, so to speak. But i think i like being different in that respect, lol. Btw, i was a good girl and did my research about burns, so i've decided to treat that of poor Zuko as being somewhere in between a severe second degree burn and a minor third degree burn. ("Minor third degree" sounds weird, i know...) So hopefully i'll be able to keep that reasonably realistic. Speaking of which, despite the ruthlessness of the firebender that inflicted said burn, i've tried to show his complexity and how he would defend his actions. A lot of fic writers seem to portray Ozai as more of an "evil-obsessed-fanatic" (to borrow the term of words without), but i really don't see him that way. So even in this scene (mainly in the later part), I tried to make him human, and maybe even pitiable. Btw, the Fire Lord's use of the term "General" to basically put Iroh in his place was an idea i got from a different fanfic--unfortunately, i can't remember which one. But anyway, i hope you enjoy, and please review.

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"Please, Father--I only had the Fire Nation's best interests at heart. I'm sorry I spoke out of turn!" Amber eyes wide, the lad begged for mercy. 

Unmoved by the boy's plea, his powerfully built opponent still advanced, growling ominously, "You will fight for your Honor." Although the sun brightly illuminated the dueling arena where the two firebenders faced eachother, by some trick of the light the older one's face was cast into deep shadow, giving him a markedly sinister appearance and making it nearly impossible to distinguish his features. Pervaded for the most part by a hazy brightness, however, the scene possessed a strange, almost surreal quality, like a deceptively fair-seeming dream that no-one can turn back from its rapid descent into nightmarish horror. At least, that's the way it felt to one in particular among the onlookers.

"I meant you no disrespect," the lad softly insisted, sinking to the ground. "I am your loyal son."

"Rise and fight, Prince Zuko!" the Fire Lord commanded, still refusing to heed his son's words.

The prince, however, remained prostrate before his Lord, answering humbly and yet with resolve, "I won't fight you." At last, Fire Lord Ozai came to a halt a few feet in front of Zuko When he spoke, his voice was low and dangerous.

"You will learn respect, and suffering will be your teacher." As Ozai pronounced his will, the child kneeling before him lifted an innocent, golden-amber gaze to look on his idol, letting salty tears fall freely to the dust.

Before the blow fell, the old general in the stands turned away and closed his eyes. Knowing his brother as well as he did, Iroh supposed he should have had no real reason to be surprised by the Fire Lord's refusal to show mercy to Zuko. Still, that didn't change how much it hurt to watch as the boy who'd become as dear as a second son to him was made to suffer. As the roar of the flames blended in horrific counterpoint with his nephew's anguished screams, General Iroh knew that the harrowing sound would be seared into his heart as surely as the mark of Ozai's fire would be seared into Zuko's face.

After what seemed an endless moment, the Fire Lord had apparently ceased his terrible lesson, for a new sound rent the air (as well as Iroh's heart). Bending low over the hard, sun-beaten flagstones, the prince clutched desperately at the left side of his face, sobs of agony tearing from his throat. Ignoring him, Ozai turned to address the onlookers.

"Let it be known that henceforth, in all territories under the dominion of the Crown..." As the Fire Lord's voice echoed through the stadium, Iroh made up his mind. Although it was not looked upon favorably to enter the Agni Kai arena until both participants had departed from it, he couldn't leave his nephew to suffer alone. That decided, he made his way as swiftly as he could down through the stands, determined not to let anything or anyone slow him down from reaching the one who needed him so desperately right now. In one sense, this was just another battle, and there were few who could successfully stand against the Dragon of the West. Although he had indeed been a foe to be reckoned with in the bloody conflicts in the Earth Kingdom, however, he was even more so when, as now, a child he loved was in danger. To him, this was one of the few causes he had left that were truly worth fighting for, and perhaps the only one, surpassing even the desire that had burned inside him in his youth to bring his country glory in victory.

"...for displaying shamefull weakness that ill befits a prince of the People of Flame--" As one of the prince's wails reached a particularly shrill note, the Fire Lord glanced down contemptuously at the weeping child at his feet.

"You will be silent when your Lord speaks," Ozai rebuked him with a voice quiet yet icy. Even in as much torment as he surely was, Zuko made a brave attempt to restrain himself to a low moan of pain. He had learned the hard way when it was not his place to speak. After the prince had quieted somewhat, his father returned to issuing the decree.

"...and for refusing to fight for his Honor when commanded to do so by the Fire Lord..."

_Hold on, my prince--I'm almost there, _thought Iroh as he neared the battle ground.

"...Prince Zuko is banished, until such time as he should return having captured the Avatar..." At last Iroh

reached the barrier separating the duelers from those watching.

"Let me through," he ordered quietly but firmly to the guard on duty there. Seeming startled, the man nonetheless obeyed. Running to Zuko, Iroh knelt down beside him. Whether the anguish in the tortured gaze the prince lifted to meet his uncle's was purely physical, the latter couldn't have said. As excruciating as the pain of the burn must be, he knew that to Zuko, the knowledge that the father he adored thought him a failure would most likely be far worse.

"...and anyone who unlawfully harbors him will face the wrath of the Fire Lord." As though the matter of his son's disgrace was now beneath his notice, Ozai turned away. As though on signal, the onlookers began to disperse--there was nothing more to see. Seemingly overcome by torment and shame, Zuko collapsed into a dead faint in his uncle's arms.

When his limp hands fell away from the injured eye, Iroh's own widened in horror as he perceived just how cruelly the Fire Lord's blast of flame had ravaged that tear-stained face. Fading into less severe burns on either side, a wide swath of shiny, blistered red stretched from the bridge of Zuko's nose to his left temple, and Iroh was certain it would leave a permanent scar in its wake. In places the skin had a somewhat charred look, especially surrounding the eyelid, which was thinner and had thus burned darker. A sizable portion of his hair on that side had been turned black and brittle, and the eyebrows and lashes had been singed completely off, probably for good. Thankfully, it seemed Zuko's wound was not so terrible that he would not live, if given proper care. However, as always in such things, there _was_ a chance...

_Don't let me lose another son!_ Iroh prayed in desperation, unable to bear the thought's logical conclusion. Through the haze of his shocked distress and fear for a loved one's life, it subsequently occurred to him that the firebender who had affected his nephew's well-being so much for the worse was quite near at hand, not having left the arena yet, and could thus be called upon to account for his treatment of the child in Iroh's arms. Feeling a parent's protective anger rise in him, the old Dragon looked up at Ozai.

"What have you done?" Iroh whispered slowly, finding that his voice had been partially stolen by the monstrosity of his brother's actions toward Zuko.

"I should think it would be obvious," the Fire Lord replied impassively, not bothering to look at either his brother or his son. "Therefore, because I presume you already know perfectly well what I've done, I see no point in answering that question."

"But_why_?" Iroh demanded, words failing him in his horror and heartbreak on his nephew's behalf "Why have you _branded_ your child?"

Turning a steely gaze on him, Ozai explained slowly, "As I told you, it should have been clear from observation. He refused to fight when I commanded him to do so. He has shown disrespect and weakness, and such faults deserve to be punished."

"But not like this!" Iroh cried, struggling against the onslaught of anger, sadness and despair at the thought of what his nephew must suffer as of today that suddenly threatened to overwhelm him. Yes, the damage to Zuko's face was irrevocable, but there was still something worth fighting for. The prince should not have to leave the only home he had ever known. "He's not yet fourteen--a child so young may make mistakes, but these are not crimes that merit exiling and burning him!"

Holding up a hand to silence his brother, the Fire Lord stated, "I am well aware of his age, and of your probable opinion of the matter. However, considering the..._concern_ you seem to possess for my son, I assume your primary desire at present will be to have his injuries attended to. You know as well as I that a burn such as I have, as you put it, _branded_ upon him requires immediate medical attention." Despite his almost silky tone, there was something resembling a challenge in Ozai's level stare as he spoke. Iroh, however, took no further notice, except to murmur distractedly, "Yes, of course." His brother was right--Zuko's wound needed to be seen to right away, and for the moment, that was all that mattered. Lifting the child carefully as though he were made of glass, the old general began walking as quickly as he could toward the hospital ward of the palace. Almost as soon as he'd started, he heard Ozai address him once again.

"Are you certain you wish to commit into the care of the physicians someone whom the Fire Lord has banished? If you do not act with care, that could perhaps be regarded as _unlawfully_ harboring him." Although his tone was mild, there was something languid yet deadly in Ozai's manner that reminded Iroh of a predatory feline that knows its prey is within easy reach, and is simply waiting for the right moment to spring.

"Brother, I was under the impression that you said Prince Zuko should be tended," Iroh answered carefully, knowing from experience how crucial it was to proceed with caution when his brother was in this mood. Hopefully, the latter simply wanted to assert his power over the situation, and wasn't actually thinking of enforcing his threat.

"I did, and he should, if he is to heal and live," the Fire Lord conceded, though not with any hint of compliance in his face or voice. "However, I have not given my consent for you to take him to the healers."

"Speak plainly then, I entreat you, and tell me what you mean," Iroh requested urgently. With a burn like this, it really was critical that the victim was given immediate care. "Will you allow him to be tended by the physicians?" If not, the old general fully intended to look after Zuko himself, "Fire Lord's wrath" or no. For answer, Ozai summoned over an officer who was exiting the arena along with the rest of the crowd.

"Take the prince to the physicians' ward," the Fire Lord instructed when the man reached them. "Inform them that they will tend his injuries until the tide turns this evening. At that time, he will be given a ship and a crew, and he will leave the Fire Nation."

Before the soldier could reply, Iroh interrupted, "So soon? He's in no fit state to travel!"

"I will decide when he is fit to travel." Once again there was a dangerous glint in his brother's eye, and Iroh abruptly recalled that it was not wise to appear to challenge the Fire Lord--at least, not in front of others.

Knowing any further protest would achieve nothing at present, aside from wasting time that should be used to take care of Zuko's wounds, Iroh told the officer, "Please also ask the physicians to let Prince Zuko know I'll be there as soon as I can if he wakes up."

Bowing to each of them, the solder answered respectfully, "My Lord Ozai, General Iroh, it shall be as you will." So saying, he took the unconscious prince from Iroh, who relinquished him grudgingly despite his conclusion that considering the circumstances, it was probably best to let someone else take him to the healers. Now that the Fire Lord had established so soon a time for his son's departure, Iroh knew he might not get another chance to argue against Zuko's banishment. Once his nephew was safely on his way to the physicians' ward therefore, Iroh turned back to Ozai.

"Please, brother--let's talk some more about this," he quietly implored.

"Say what you must, Iroh--it will not alter my decision."

"Nonetheless, it must be said." Taking a deep breath, the former general inwardly readied himself for battle.

"I'm begging you, Ozai--do not carry out this decree. Think about what you are doing!"

"How many times must I _tell_ you, brother?--I know very well what I am doing," the Fire Lord answered impatiently. "I have given you my reasons--that should suffice, even for you. It's more than many have a right to expect, and I am unconvinced that there are any who do possess that right."

"Perhaps, but I have not yet given you all of _my_ reasons," replied Iroh. "You wanted to teach him respect, did you not? Then I ask you to consider this: What can a child learn from a father who shows him such ruthlessness, except to be ruthless to others?"

"That_would_ be a desirable effect," Ozai pointed out ironically. Becoming serious once more, he elaborated, "To win this war, we need to be strong enough to make the sacrifices that are required of us. It must be made clear that no loss is too high a price to pay--not an entire division of green recruits, not even the Fire Lord's own son--if it means we move one step closer to to victory, and to bringing glory to our great nation. Anyone who believes otherwise, as Prince Zuko appeared to when he spoke out of turn in the war council chamber, is not fit to be on the throne." Although Iroh caught the veiled insult to himself, as one who definitely "believed otherwise," he did not rise to the bait-- there were more important matters at stake.

"Concern for others is not weakness," the old Dragon insisted. "Indeed, I am convinced that nothing in the world is more powerful than love! It was compassion for those young soldiers that compelled Prince Zuko to stand up and defend the forty-first division, be it out of turn. And it was because he respects--no, he honors and adores you that he would not fight when you commanded him to. How can you say these qualities deserve to be punished?"

"Noble as these impulses might seem to you, my son acted upon them in a manner that is unacceptable," the Fire Lord returned stonily. "Be he prince or pauper, a subject of the Crown must place his allegiance to it above all, even at the cost of being obligated to perform a duty that he finds distasteful from his supposed moral standpoint. If anyone finds himself unable to do so, he is weak, and will only bring shame upon himself and those he serves. I will not tolerate weakness in my people, and especially not in my heir."

"Brother, listen to yourself!" Iroh urged. "Is winning this war truly more important than doing what is right? You would chose power over ethics?"

"I would chose loyalty to my lord above all," Ozai informed him coldly. "Considering that I am Lord, however, I have a duty to my people. I cannot let a soft-hearted weakling inherit the throne."

"Zuko is no weakling!" the former general protested. "He cared enough about the fate of those young soldiers, and about not fighting you, to hold steadfastly to what he believed was right, even when it became clear that he might face dire consequences for doing so. This is a mark of strength!"

"And in consequence, he bears a mark of disgrace," the Fire Lord replied with the merest trace of a sneer appearing on his lips. "Let us hope it will teach him not to let his heart rule his head."

"It is his heart that compels him to revere you so!" Iroh exclaimed, doing his best to keep the accusation in his voice to a minimum. "You should be proud to have a son so devoted, instead of answering with fire when he begs for mercy!"

"Fire_has_ no mercy," Ozai shot back. "If there was no other way to instruct him not to beg for it than by demonstrating that fact, then so be it."

"This is not instruction--this is torture!" Iroh shouted, momentarily letting his emotions get the better of him. Fearing the effect a loss of temper could have on the fulfillment of his goal, he then struggled to regain outward calm.

"Our element may be merciless, it is true. However, as benders of it, we are human, and humans are able to show compassion!"

"As benders, we are human, and humans are susceptible to weakness," came the relentless answer. "I am unconvinced that the two characteristics are not one and the same."

"Surely you see that not allowing people to suffer needlessly is a good thing!" argued Iroh. "But Prince Zuko is no stranger to loyalty and duty! He reveres you above all else, and would do anything you asked him--except for fighting you today." Although the old general tried not to falter as he spoke the last words, he knew that voicing this exception in the prince's behavior would most likely lower the chance of his request being granted. Nonetheless, he could not deny the truth, especially when he fully condoned the behavior of the person in question.

"Except for fighting me today," Ozai echoed him, and Iroh knew it was as he'd feared. "When his loyalty was tested, he did not obey. It is not enough to be willing to die for one's Lord--at his bidding one must also set aside the squeamishness that some mistake for nobility and Honor."

"Even at the cost of letting an entire division be wiped out? Think of the families whose sons will never come home!" the former general entreated his brother, feeling his throat catch as he said it. How well he knew that pain.

"I am fully aware of how intimately you are acquainted with that most_regrettable_ misfortune, Iroh. Be that as it may, however, Lu Ten's death does_not_ endow you with the right to decide what should be done with _my_ son!" the Fire Lord hissed vehemently, golden eyes blazing.

Losing all semblance of fulfilling his attempted role as the cool voice of reason, Iroh cried, "Ozai, I would give my right hand and the light of my eyes to possess again what is yours--a living son who loves you unconditionally! But instead of treating yours like the rare and precious gift he is, you have cast him away like something worthless! How can you be so _blind?_"

"_Enough_," the Fire Lord snarled, and Iroh knew a line had been crossed for his brother as for himself. "I will hear no more of this! You would do well to remember your place, _General_."

All at once, Iroh knew it was over, and that nothing he could say would make Ozai yield. Shoulders slumping in defeat, he felt the fire of battle go out of him. As the Fire Lord stood glaring at him, jaw set in his anger and stubborn refusal to back down, it struck Iroh how very much his brother resembled the child whose entire world had so recently been turned upside down. With a distant, inconsequential part of him, the old Dragon reflected on the irony of the fact that the man who was responsible for much of the Zuko's physical appearance (not to mention his hot-tempered disposition) had as of this day forever altered his face.

Slowly Iroh said aloud, "If you will not heed your own son when he begs you for mercy, I cannot hope that you will listen to me. Therefore, I have but one request--if you will not undo your decree that Prince Zuko is to be banished, at least let me leave the Fire Nation with him." He would go whether his brother gave his assent or not, but he thought it would be best (not to mention easier for him to accomplish his aim of remaining always by his nephew's side) to appear to ask permission first.

"You would accompany my son on his journey?" Ozai inquired, his expression unreadable.

"Yes, I would," Iroh answered simply. "One prince must look after another, after all--especially considering that we have both angered the Fire Lord."

"In that case, tell me why the Fire Lord should grant you leave to go," Ozai challenged, appearing as though not all of his anger had yet been spent.

"For one thing, it would remove from the court--and from a position of influence--someone who believes differently from yourself," Iroh pointed out with a kind of quiet, despairing calm born of knowing that it was hopeless to continue arguing for his original cause. "Also, if Prince Zuko is ever to succeed in the mission you have given him--and you know he will die trying, determined as he is--he would have a much better chance of not only finding but also capturing the Avatar, and thus eliminating the last great threat to a Fire Nation victory, if I were there to help him." Hesitating briefly, he added, " And...we are brothers, after all. Please--I_beg_ you, Ozai--if ever there was anything other than enmity between us, grant me leave to go with your son into exile."

After studying him a long moment, the Fire Lord waved a hand dismissively. "Very well. Go, then, if you must."

"Thank you," Iroh said quietly, bowing to Ozai as their respective ranks demanded. Having done all he could, the old general walked away. Soon he would have to prepare for their eminent voyage, but first he would visit the healing ward, and see if his nephew was awake. Now that Iroh had failed to convince his brother to change his mind, nothing remained except to take Zuko someplace--the exact location didn't matter in the slightest--where the prince would be safe from the pitiless heat of his father's wrath. From now on, the former general resolved, he would devote all his energy and being to the priceless treasure that had been so cruelly discarded by the one who refused to consider it worth cherishing. And yet, even amidst all his sorrow and anger that had been caused by that one, Iroh wished in vain that--somehow--there could have been a way for his brother to also be rescued from the monster he had forced himself to become.


	2. Awakening

A/N: First of all, thank you to all who reviewed! It made my day to get some feedback, and I would be happy to hear what people gave to say about this new chapter (as well as the first one, if you haven't yet reviewed it and would like to). Since you're probably wondering (tho you may not be), yes, the title of this chapter is a reference to Episode 301. As to the actual story, like i said before i've been trying to make the description of Zuko's burn and the treatment it receives reasonably realistic. So anyway, hopefully it sounds accurate, at least. ;) BTW, there will be seven chapters in all, plus maybe an epilogue. Hopefully I got the angst quota right in this section--i figured our newly exiled prince wouldn't be feeling too good at this point (somewhat obviously, lol). Poor thing.

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Hours later, Iroh sat by his nephew's bedside, as the ocean softly lapped against the steel sides of their vessel. While the ship with which the Fire Lord had deigned to equip his son for the prince's likely endless search wasn't much above mediocre, the old general was not going to complain. It would suffice, and the most important thing was not the quality of their transportation device, but the fact that he and Zuko were aboard it together. As it turned out, the prince had not woken up by the time his uncle visited the hospital ward after trying and failing to change his nephew's decreed fate, and the prince still had yet to regain consciousness. In some ways, Iroh was thankful on Zuko's behalf for the latter's delayed return to the waking world. Considering all that had befallen him that day, it was probably merciful to let the young exile (it still felt strange, thinking of him that way) escape into slumber for as long as he could from pain of body and mind. 

As the old general waited for his nephew to wake up, he set to work cleaning the wound (a task which had to be repeated at least once a day). After unwinding the bandage from Zuko's head, Iroh laid a cool, damp cloth on the burn to soothe it and keep away infection. When the cloth grew warm, he returned it to the pail of ice water on the floor beside his chair from which it had come. From the pail he drew another to replace it, and continued bathing the prince's eye. There wasn't a professional healer aboard the ship--even if Ozai had allowed one to be spared from the Palace, the Fire Lord's brother hadn't wanted someone else to take away the job of tending the child that become Iroh's entire world. Right here was the only place he wanted to be, helping the prince toward recovery in any way he could. Knowing that he'd be useful for nothing except looking after his nephew for however long it took for the injured prince to heal, Iroh had assured the head physician that he would tend Zuko to the best of his abilities. (These, of course, were considerable, made necessarily so by the fact that their owner was a practiced general and a master Firebender).

After he had left the hospital ward, there had ensued a seemingly chaotic rush of preparation for their departure, during which Iroh found himself hard pressed to concentrate on anything except his newly wounded and banished nephew. When the tide turned that evening, Ozai's guards had escorted Iroh and Zuko (the latter being carried on a stretcher) to their ship, where the promised crew already awaited them. As for the Fire Lord himself, he had not even come to bid his son and brother farewell, despite the fact that it was unlikely he would ever see them again. Aside from the flickering torches borne by the soldiers who accompanied the exile from the Palace to the docks, the main other source of light was the moon that washed the scene with cool, ghostly silver. Since the duel, Zuko had looked paler than usual, but when those white, unearthly beams illuminated his still form, the unconscious prince had appeared as though he were already in a realm beyond the land of the living. Praying this premonition would not come to pass, Iroh had become all the more resolute that he would make every effort henceforth to treat his nephew like the treasure he was--like all children were--and try to fulfill the role that Zuko's father should have.

When they had set sail shortly afterward, it was in a general eastward direction, which would lead them eventually to somewhere along the Earth Kingdom coast. However, Iroh still had not decided on a definite destination, partly because it would require careful consideration to determine where the Avatar might have hid all these years, if indeed he (or she) had not been wiped out along with the rest of the Air Nomads. That being the case, it was certainly not a mission on which to seriously embark until Zuko had recovered. While recalling his reasons for not beginning the search right away, the old general wondered briefly whether it was really commendable to set out with the intention of capturing and delivering to his enemies someone who had already lost his entire nation. On the other hand, the one looking for him had also lost much, and fulfilling that quest was Zuko's only chance at gaining back everything that had been taken from him. Philosophical ponderings aside, however, all that mattered right now was that Iroh kept his nephew alive and safe, and that he shielded the prince against all who would harm him.

Satisfied with his treatment of Zuko's wound, the former general removed the cloth presently cooling it. After giving the burn time to dry, he gently smeared a herbal cream that the physicians had given him on the damaged skin. Then he bound a clean, white bandage around his nephew's head once more, doing his best not to wake the sleeping prince. Shortly after he had finished, however, Zuko gave a soft moan and began to stir. Slowly his right eye fluttered open, then he gave a small gasp, raising a hand quickly to the bandaged side of his head. For a long moment, he lay still, his good eye squeezed tightly shut as if to block out an evil memory or great pain. After a while, however, whatever discomfort he was experiencing seemed to recede a little, or else he found courage to bear it. Once more, the visible eye came open, and roving a little it found Iroh.

"I'm still alive?" he asked in a hollow, dead-sounding voice, seeming as though he didn't care in the slightest that it was so, (or perhaps as though he was hurt too deeply to care). Distressed to see such bleak despair in that gaze, which seemed dulled with suffering, the old general found himself wondering where the light in the young prince's eyes had gone, which had once turned bright amber to summer gold.

"He didn't kill me?" repeated Zuko. Of course Iroh knew full well to whom his nephew was referring, and was once again saddened and angered that the one who should have guided and protected the prince had banished and burned him instead. Nonetheless, he tried to sound encouraging as he replied.

"No, of course he didn't, Prince Zuko. You're alive, and for that I am very thankful." Zuko looked away.

"I wanted him to. When he--when it happened, I wanted to die. I thought I would, it hurt so much." Now despair gave way to a raw, desolate ache in his voice. "Anything would have been better than the way he _looked_ at me, just before the fire came!" Guilty of turning away at that moment, Iroh remained silent. Deeply though he wished to offer some word of comfort, for some reason no helpful proverb would come to mind.

"I've failed him again!" the prince went on, a note of desperation creeping into his voice. "I was weak and I failed! I should have fought, I should have done _anything_ he told me to! Tell me--where is he? I've got to tell Father I'm still loyal, and I _always_ will be, no matter what! I've got to tell him...I'm sorry." Because Iroh's throat had become rather constricted at his nephew's continuing devotion, the old general discovered that he was unable to tell Zuko about the second part of the reward Ozai deemed his son had earned by it.

"Uncle? What's the matter?" Zuko asked when no answer came. For the first time, he appeared to become aware of their surroundings. Craning his neck, the prince looked quickly about. "This isn't my room, or the healers' ward, either. Where are we?" he questioned more insistently, a perplexed frown betraying his sudden unease. Almost as soon as he spoke, Zuko seemed to recognize the answer to his query, for he had traveled on vessels like this, although usually grander, quite often in the past. All at once he became very still, then slowly turned his head to regard Iroh once more. As though afraid of what the answer might be, he carefully inquired, "Uncle, why are we on a ship?" At last the old general found his voice.

"You must be brave, Prince Zuko," he answered gently. "We are in exile. Your father...has banished you." At first Zuko simply stared at his uncle, uncomprehending.

Then slowly he mouthed the word, "_No_. No!" he repeated more loudly. "You don't mean that. It isn't true! Father wouldn't send me away!--_would_ he?"

His heart aching for the tortuous uncertainty that had suddenly manifested itself in the prince's face and voice, the old general replied, "I can't tell you how much I wish it didn't have to be this way. But no matter what happens, you'll always have me. Family sticks together."

"There must be some mistake!" cried Zuko, beginning to look panicked. Of course his uncle didn't blame him for not wanting to believe his banishment was anything more than a bad dream. Many times during that day, Iroh had wished that very thing with all his heart. "How can I tell Father I'm sorry if he sends me into exile? How can I prove my loyalty if--" Seemingly unnoticed by the prince, a tear trickled out of his unbandaged eye, and in a choked voice he finished, "--if I can't ever come home?"

"I told your father that you were loyal," said Iroh, wishing the statement were capable of giving more than empty comfort. "After your Agni Kai earlier today, I begged him to reconsider, but he wouldn't listen to me."

"You did that after the duel?" his nephew echoed him, anguished confusion momentarily replacing horrified denial in his expression. "But...when? I don't remember--"

"You were unconscious," Iroh told him kindly, and even in his present state, the prince flushed at the memory of having fainted. "After an officer had taken you to the physicians' ward, I tried to change my brother's mind in the dueling arena. As you can see, I'm afraid I didn't succeed."

"But I still don't understand," Zuko persisted, shaking his head as if to clear it of humiliation and bewilderment. "If you argued against my--against Father's decree while you were both still in the Agni Kai arena, that would mean he had already--" All at once the prince's expression cleared, and he became subdued, asking in a low voice, "So that was what he was saying, wasn't it?--when he told me...I was to be silent," he clarified, looking shamefaced. "I tried to be--I really did--but I couldn't, quite..." Not seeming to notice what he was doing, Zuko began absently fingering his bandage.

"I was surprised you were able to quiet yourself to the extent you did, considering the circumstances," Iroh assured him. "It takes great strength to be able to endure a wound as serious as yours in silence." His nephew however, did not seem convinced.

"But I should have been strong enough to obey my Lord, as was required of me, and...I wasn't. I was weak. I always am, somehow," he stated with sad, quiet certainty. "I know it, because Father tells me so, and he wouldn't tell me something that wasn't true. I try so hard to be all that a prince should, but I never quite succeed. I'm not like Azula."

Before Iroh could speak, Zuko continued more forcefully, "And now I've failed my Lord once again! It's no wonder he banished me--death by his hand would have been too much of an honor! Well, he didn't kill me, but he doesn't have to. I'll save him the trouble." His face hardening in grim resolve, the prince began to rise. Understandably disturbed by his words, his uncle tried to restrain him.

"Let me _go_!" Zuko snarled. In his suddenly defiant gaze, a mad light had woken, glowing like embers in a bed of hot coals. "I'm not worthy to be a son of the Fire Lord, not worthy to stay in my own country, not worthy to _live_! If I can't bring anything but shame to myself and my father, at least let me die with what little honor I may have left before I disgrace myself further in the eyes of my Lord!" In his wild, fierce despair, the prince reminded Iroh of a wounded animal that covers its fear and helplessness with defensive anger. While it wasn't likely that Zuko would be able to take his own life now, weakened and injured as he was, he might still do himself harm in the effort. In any case, the old general was aware that threats of suicide should be attended to immediately and with care.

Because he recognized that it probably wouldn't be any use to try to reason with his nephew while he was in this frame of mind, Iroh decided to try to calm Zuko down another way. Desiring both to protect the prince from himself and to let him know that he was loved, the old general drew his nephew close in a gentle but powerful embrace. Although Zuko still fought with all his strength (which wasn't saying much at present) to free himself, his flailing limbs were for the most part stilled out of necessity by being wrapped snugly in Iroh's own strong arms.

Softly he murmured, "My dear nephew, I will not let you destroy yourself. You are far too precious to me for that." For a moment more, the prince struggled fruitlessly. Then Iroh felt him go completely limp, the vehemence gone as suddenly as it had come. Looking exhausted, Zuko let his uncle lay him back down on the soft pillows, where he lay breathing hard. After several minutes, the young exile spoke again, sounding immeasurably drained and weary.

"It's too late. I've already destroyed myself." Somehow the prince seemed broken after giving up the battle to keep the last shred of his honor in the only way he knew how. Closing his good eye, Zuko continued in calm despair, "You were right, the guards were right--I don't belong in the war council chamber. _Why_ didn't I _listen_ to you? If I'd never gone in, I never would have heard that general's plan, and none of this would have happened!" After voicing these last words in which resignation gave way to searing regret, the prince looked once more at Iroh, his face troubled. "But...I'm so confused, Uncle. Those men in the forty first division--I've talked with them, watched them train. Some of them aren't much older than I am. I couldn't let them be sent to die!"

"You spoke out for what you thought was right, Prince Zuko," replied Iroh. "And the concern for those young soldiers' lives that drove you to do so is admirable."

"But they're still going to die, aren't they?" his nephew asked dully. "I don't think they'd change the battle plan on my account, especially not now. Their lives are about to end in the fight with that Earth Kingdom battalion, and on top of that I'm in exile now as well. I've achieved nothing, and I've lost _everything_."

"Sometimes one must stand up for what one believes is right," Iroh explained, "even if there's a cost for doing so. I myself am still learning how to walk the line between what others expect of me, and what my conscience requires that I do. But enough talk for now. Are you hungry? I could get you something to eat, or make you some tea. It might help you sleep, and you need your rest."

Turning his face to the wall, Zuko answered flatly, "Do whatever you want, Uncle. I don't care. It doesn't matter anymore. Nothing can change the fact that--" There was a catch in his voice, and he spoke the last words fiercely, as though to keep away tears. "--I can't ever go home."

When the prince reminded his uncle of his status as an exile, the old general abruptly recalled the condition on which his nephew could indeed return home. Knowing how very determined and even obstinate Zuko could be, Iroh had misgivings about informing him of the nearly impossible mission he had been given--he didn't want to give the prince false hope. Still, Iroh supposed Zuko had a right to know, and of course he would be there to help his nephew deal with the apparent insurmountability of his task as it asserted itself.

Deciding to chance it, Iroh said slowly "Zuko, your father didn't say couldn't _ever_ come home." The effect on his listener was immediate.

"He_ didn't?_" gasped the prince, his head whipping around. "But I thought you said--"

"He banished you, yes, but there was--he gave one condition on which you might return." Sighing, the old general reflected that it was too late now to not tell Zuko about the task the Fire Lord had appointed him and thus, it suddenly occurred to Iroh, risk the loss of any chance his nephew might have of being able, in time, to settle down and lead a reasonably contented life despite being exiled from the land of his birth.

"There was? Why didn't you tell me before, Uncle? What do I have to do?" the prince questioned eagerly.

"Now, I want you to keep in mind that your father gave you a very _hard _condition--one that may prove impossible to fulfill," Iroh cautioned him. "Please don't get your hopes up, Prince Zuko."

"It would have to be a hard condition, for me to have my honor restored," Zuko pointed out reasonably. Apparently unable to reign in his impatience, the prince then entreated, "Tell me! What did he say?" With his nephew hanging on every word, Iroh quietly (and a bit reluctantly) told Zuko what his father had decreed.

"Before you may return to the Fire Nation, you must find and capture the Avatar, because he is the only one that could keep our nation from winning this war. You must realize, my nephew, that it will be very difficult indeed to accomplish this quest. Even if the Avatar survived the massacre of his people, he's most likely mastered all the elements by now. Also, if he is still alive, finding someone who's been in hiding for nearly a century will prove no simple task." Despite his uncle's warnings, Zuko appeared to be wholly enraptured by this last, shining ray of hope that had suddenly illuminated the darkness into which his world had so abruptly plunged.

"Don't you see? This is my test, to prove my loyalty to Father--I knew he wouldn't banish me forever! The harder it is, the more everyone will see I'm strong if I succeed. And if I don't, at least I will have died in service to the Fire Lord. This way I can still serve him, even in exile. I won't fail him again. I'll find and capture the Avatar, and Father will know I only ever wanted to bring him honor, as a son should do. He'll understand." All too well, Iroh knew his brother was not the understanding type.

However, he said aloud, "For your sake, Prince Zuko, I hope it will be so. Now, let me get you something to eat and drink, and then you can get some more sleep."


	3. Compassion and Suffering

A/N: Sorry for the long wait! (I was away visiting family, and so i couldn't work on the story for a while. I was glad to get back to it, tho!) Also, thanks for the reviews! Aside from that, I don't have much to say here, except that i enjoyed writing this part, where Iroh's taking care of poor li'l Zuko. (You see, the previous two scenes were in my original draft, but most of the rest of the fic is stuff i added quite a bit later to expand the story and help it flow better. And because i get to write more of it that way!) Please enjoy, and also i'd like to ask that you keep your reviews free of spoilers from any episode after 305, since i sadly haven't seen anything after that. (Can't wait for Volume 2, Book 3 to arrive! Two weeks and counting...) I may have already mentioned that, but i can't remember. Anyway, on to the story!

* * *

The next day, Zuko did not wake again until nearly noon. When at last the good eye opened, he quietly stated, "I'm hungry." 

"Then why don't I see about some lunch for us? I'll be right back." Rising from the chair where he'd kept vigil for most of the morning, Iroh went to ask the man standing sentry outside the door to bring from the ship's kitchen some hot chicken pig broth for the prince and a bowl of noodles for himself, with jasmine tea for both of them. Unwilling to leave his bedridden charge, the old general had requested that a crew member be stationed in the adjacent hallway, so that anything uncle or nephew needed could be sent for without undue trouble.

When the man returned bearing a tray with the requested meal, Iroh took it from him with words of thanks, and laid it on a low table beside the prince's bed. Then he propped Zuko up on his pillows and gave him the bowl of broth. As Iroh started on his noodles, he observed that there was a lifeless, mechanical quality to his nephew's movements. Similarly to when he'd first woken, the young exile appeared to have lost the will and energy to notice or care about his surroundings. Although Iroh's parental concern was of course activated by the prince's seeming listlessness, the old general supposed it was to be expected. Not two days had passed since Zuko had been severely wounded, and last night's conversation had probably tired him out, both physically and emotionally. Additionally, the knowledge of his banishment and his father's displeasure was a heavy burden to bear.

When he'd finished eating, the prince closed his visible eye, appearing drained of what little energy he'd recovered. Aware that his charge needed as much sleep as possible, Iroh set their dishes back on the tray and returned it to the sentry.

Upon reclaiming his seat, he quietly urged, "You rest now, my nephew. I'll be right here if you need me." A tired-sounding sigh was his only answer, but it was enough. Not long after, Iroh knew that Zuko had fallen asleep from the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing. As he had earlier that morning, the former general once more cleaned the prince's wound, checked it for signs of infection, and changed the bandage. Aware that at this stage, the seared flesh would still be excruciatingly painful to the touch, Iroh had decided it would be kinder to wait until Zuko was unconscious in order to tend the burn. When this task was accomplished, the old Dragon made certain his nephew was covered warmly, and continued watching over the young exile as he slept. From there he intended to move as little as possible all afternoon, having instructed the sentry to inform him of anything that required his attention, and take messages of what should be done about it.

As the hours passed, Iroh gave serious thought to what their next move should be. Although he had decided not to seriously embark on their quest until Zuko had recovered, he knew that eventually, they would have to face the reality of the almost impossible task the Fire Lord had set for his son. To have any hope of finding someone who had been in hiding for nearly a century, they would have to give careful consideration to every clue that could possibly lead them to the Avatar. Even so, they might never find him, and it would be a long time before Zuko would allow himself to admit defeat, if indeed he ever did. With this thought, all at once there came unbidden to Iroh an image of a solitary, ironclad vessel that wandered fruitlessly and without end from one unfriendly land to another in an eternal, hopeless mission, urged on by a scarred young man who's burning desire to earn his father's acceptance had clouded eyes of eager, innocent gold with bitterness and anger. Shivering at the vision, the old general knew he would to do everything in his power to save the child he loved from becoming lost behind armored walls of resentment, raised by the one whose heart they shielded to hide his loneliness and pain from a world he perceived as cruel and uncaring.

_Is this what you wanted suffering to teach him, my brother? Is your son's respect truly worth sacrificing the wide-eyed young boy who already idolizes you?_

Despite Iroh's strengthened resolve not to let his premonition of a moment ago come to pass, however, he couldn't take away the prince's physical reminder of his fall from grace. Every time he looked in the mirror, Zuko would see the scar that was his punishment for refusing to fight a father he adored. In vain the old Dragon wished they could seek aid from the waterbenders, who had the gift of healing. Unfortunately, that was impossible. That people would have no reason to give help to a son of their greatest enemy, and while Iroh would have been more than willing to set aside for Zuko the animosity between the Fire Nation and the Water Tribe, he would not put his nephew in that kind of danger. Besides, the prince would never submit to receiving aid from those with whom his father was at war. Rather ironically, in this respect Zuko was truly Ozai's son, for his pride and his loyalty to his nation and his Lord drove the prince to keep rigidly to his perceived code of honor, even at the cost of making his life harder than it had to be.

At last evening came (as the sentry told Iroh), and the old general decided to wake his nephew. As beneficial as sleep was to the prince right now, he needed to eat sometime, and stay hydrated.

When their evening meal was brought to their quarters, Iroh softly called, "Zuko, you must wake up now. It's suppertime." Once again the lone right eye slowly opened, and regarded him drowsily.

"Here--eat this," the old Dragon instructed gently, handing his nephew another bowl of broth as the latter sat up with an effort. Silently Zuko took it, and raised the spoon to his mouth. After one bite, however, he lowered the bowl and spoon to his lap and began to sway slightly, his good eye glazed over with weariness.

Seeing this, Iroh forsook his chair and sat down on the bed beside the young exile, wrapping one arm around Zuko's shoulders to support him. Taking the bowl from his nephew's limp hands, he then began spoon-feeding the prince, who was now leaning back against his uncle. When every drop was gone, the former general held the teacup to Zuko's lips, encouraging him to drink. That done, Iroh laid his nephew back down and drew the blanket over him.

After returning to his seat, the old general wondered if there was more to Zuko's lethargy than simply exhaustion and injury. From his experience in the military, Iroh knew that a lack of hope or any kind of severe emotional pain could slow down the return to physical health for the victim of a wound. Perhaps it would be wise to encourage the prince to talk about what was troubling him (for he certainly had cause to be troubled), and try to draw him out of his apparent depression.

For now, however, it was probably best to let him rest, and after Iroh had attended to Zuko's burn once again, he supposed that he himself should do the same before long. He wouldn't be far away--he had requested that an extra cot be set up in his nephew's room so that the old general could be there at a moment's notice if Zuko needed him. And yet, Iroh couldn't tear himself away from watching over the young exile as he slept. As in the moonlight when they had boarded their ship, the prince appeared far too pale and utterly helpless--very unlike his usual fiery self. Regarding this poor, broken creature before him, Iroh prayed that his brother's ruthless anger hadn't burned away the Zuko he knew and loved so dearly. Perhaps that part of the prince's spirit was simply hiding under the ashes, and Iroh would do his best to rekindle the old flame that had once shone inside his nephew. Remembering another young man, lying still and cold on the battlefield at Ba Sing Se, the former general promised himself that he would not fail to protect the only child he had left.

* * *

When at last Iroh went to bed, he fell into the light slumber he had grown accustomed to during his days in the Fire Nation army, from which he could be easily roused if necessary. Later that night, he did awake, feeling that something was wrong. Automatically Iroh glanced over to see if his charge was all right, and saw that he definitely _wasn't_. Evidently in the throes of a nightmare, Zuko was twisting and turning feverishly in his sleep, and muttering pleas to an unseen foe. Throwing off his blanket, the old Dragon hurried to his nephew's bedside, catching half-intelligible phrases such as "_No,_ please!" "won't fight you" and "I'm sorry!" No sooner had Iroh reached him than the prince sat bolt upright. As he woke, Zuko cried out in apparent agony, and his uncle was sure the cause was a blast of remembered heat. When Iroh sat down, his nephew clutched at the former general's arm, babbling incoherently. 

"He said--total disgrace--way he _looked_ at me--and the burning!--but oh, his _face_--so much worse...!" Drawing a deep, shuddering breath, Zuko continued more clearly, though still with an almost hysterical urgency. "I failed him, Uncle! I was weak and I failed! I'm a worthless son-- I've dishonored my father, and I'm not fit to be a prince of the Fire Nation! I should have obeyed him--I should have fought as my Lord commanded--but I _didn't_. And now Father's ashamed of me, and he wishes I hadn't been lucky enough to be born after all! I failed him and it's too late, too late..."

"Hush now," Iroh soothed, pulling the distraught child close. "You haven't failed anyone. I don't believe you were weak."

Sounding somewhat muffled, Zuko countered unhappily, "But Father thinks I am--he always told me I wasn't trying hard enough to be strong. I've finally run out of second chances, and he's banished me because of it. I'm just a worthless exile now and he'll never think of me again, because I don't deserve to be remembered by someone as glorious and powerful as the Fire Lord anymore..."

"I will think of you always, even when no-one else does," Iroh comforted his nephew when the latter trailed off miserably. "To me, you have priceless worth, as a prince or as an exile."

"But Father doesn't feel that way," Zuko replied, his voice ravaged by tears and pain. "I don't want him to think I'm a failure. All my life I've only wanted him to be proud of me, and instead, _look_ what's happened!"

"I know you've always desired to honor your father," Iroh assured him quietly. "That was why you refused to fight him in the Agni Kai arena. For that, I am proud of you, even if my brother is not."

"But I didn't do what my Lord commanded," his nephew protested, sounding confused. "How can that be something to make you proud?"

Still holding the prince tight, the old general responded, "It is for the reasons you didn't fight that I'm proud of you, and for your courage to remain steadfast in what you believed was right, even when it was hard. That's who you are, Zuko--someone who never gives up without a fight. You were living out those words long before I sent you the pearl dagger from the Earth Kingdom. And in this case, you didn't give up _not_ fighting without a fight."

"But you're not supposed to continue fighting to disobey the Fire Lord," Zuko persisted. "My father told me to get up and duel him, and I didn't. So he had every right to banish me, and...to firebend...like he did," the prince finished, his tone becoming ashamed. Although Iroh longed to contradict these words, he knew that his nephew's loyalty and devotion was such that he simply wouldn't believe any reply stating that his father had wronged him. Besides, it would only hurt Zuko more to hear Iroh speak ill of someone the prince so adored, and further suffering was the last thing the young exile needed right now. If Zuko was to begin healing both inside and out, it was vital that he be treated with tenderness and understanding, to balance another's brutal cruelty.

"You must remember that no-one is above error, my nephew," the old Dragon gently reminded the prince. "Not even your father."

"What do you mean?" asked Zuko. "I know everyone makes mistakes, but not Father--at least, he wouldn't make one this big. So I must really be...everything he said." Almost as if to himself, the prince then added in a lower tone, "But...it's getting hard to remember what really happened, now. My dreams--they're so real..."

When his nephew fell silent, Iroh continued, "I know you want to think well of your father, and for that I commend you. However, I believe you should keep in mind that my brother and I have always held very different views concerning what is honorable."

"It doesn't matter now, though, does it?" Zuko responded, a note of bitterness creeping into his voice. "Whether or not he made a mistake, I'm still here on this ship, in exile and disgrace. And if I_ don't_ find the Avatar--but I've got to! there's no other way I can go home!--then I'll be wandering the seas forever, all _alone_." On the last word, his voice broke on a sob and he stopped speaking, likely trying to master himself.

"You won't be alone, however long it takes to fulfill your mission," the old general promised, "or even if you never do, though I know you mean to do your best to succeed. And I hope you will! But no matter what happens, I'll be right here beside you."

"Why, Uncle?" his nephew questioned him as though struggling to understand. "Why did you come with me into exile? He didn't banish you too, did he?"

"No, he didn't," replied Iroh.

Sitting up and meeting his eye, Zuko repeated more forcefully, "Then why did you come, when you could have stayed in the Fire Palace? I don't understand." Looking away, he continued thickly, "Father...doesn't want me anymore, so why should you?" In his voice there was an almost accusatory note, as though to challenge Iroh's kindness toward someone whom his nephew's revered father had cast out. To the prince, it was extremely important that justice be carried out even at personal expense, and the former general knew that Zuko would find it difficult to accept his uncle's concern and love for him if he felt unworthy to be cared for and loved. Despite having failed to teach his little brother the necessity of mercy, however, it was not to late for Iroh to show this truth to his nephew by example.

_You will learn compassion, and love will be your teacher. But even more than that, I want you to know your incomparable value in my eyes, no matter what opinion your father holds of you._

Laying a hand on Zuko's shoulder, he answered aloud, "I want you because you're my one and only nephew, and there's no-one else in the world quite like you. And because I love you very much."

"But...I'm not Lu Ten. I can't take his place."

"I'm not asking you to," Iroh told him simply, feeling his throat constrict as always at the mention of his son's name. "I wouldn't want you to take his place in my heart. But nephew, you are every bit as important to me as--Lu Ten--was (and is), and you always will be. I love you because you're Zuko, and nothing in this world or beyond is ever going to change that."

Looking him straight in the eye, Zuko replied, "Thank you, Uncle," and they both understood the many layers of meaning held by that simple phrase.

"Why don't you get some rest now?" Iroh suggested with a smile. When hie nephew lay back down, the old general covered him once again with the blanket.

Then he offered, "Perhaps your dreams will be pleasanter if I sing a little song for you." Closing his good eye, the prince nodded, apparently not caring that he was supposedly too old for lullabies.

Softly Iroh began:

_"Leaves from the vine, falling so slow._

_Like fragile, tiny shells,_

_Drifting in the foam._

_Little soldier boy, come marching home._

_Brave soldier boy, comes marching home."_

By the time he'd finished, Zuko had found his way into deep slumber. After brushing a stray hair out of the sleeping child's face, Iroh made his way back to his cot.

* * *

A/N: Yay, i got to incorporate the "leaves" song! Poor Zuko... Yes, i'm prone to choking up while reading/working on this. One thing i'd like to point out (because i love explaining the logic behind various parts of my writing, lol) is that while its kind of a recurring theme in this story (so far, anyway) that Zuko was very troubled (yeah, i know that's an understatement, but my mental thesaurus isn't working properly) by whatever he saw in his father's eyes before...the fire came...we of course didn't see Ozai's expression because we never saw said monarch's face until the Awakening, and Iroh (the viewpoint character and thus our window into that world in this fanfic) didn't either, because he "looked away." (Not that I blame him one bit, mind you...it's gotta be hard watching a child you love get hurt.) So, the fact that we're kind of in the dark about that might make it more difficult for us (well, Iroh) to know how to help the poor distraught prince with his feeling of unworthiness in his father's eyes. Also, I wanted to mention that Iroh kind of borrowed some of Ursa lines in the paragraph where he mentions the inscription on Zuko's knife, if you hadn't already noticed that. Oh, and did you like Iroh's version of his brother's "respect/suffering" line? Because I was kind of proud of coming up with that...lol. And if i haven't already confused you beyond...something (told you my mental thesaurus isn't working)...then you could go to my main page and see the illustrations to my fanfic (because i like to draw what i write, lol) that may be up by the time you read this. I'm not promising they will, but i'm planning to get them up soon. So anyway, hope you enjoyed, and please review! The fourth chapter will probably be posted before too long (hopefully, anyway). 


	4. Regrets and a Promise

A/N: Sorry about the wait! It's hard to balance all my computer-needing interests...but anyway, here's the update! Thanks for all the reviews, and for over 1000 hits! I won't say much about this chapter till the A/N afterward, except that i hope you like it. (Also, while you're waiting for the next update-- and i can't guarantee how soon that will be, unfortunately--you're welcome to check out my collection of Zuko-related poems. No pressure or anything, but I'd love to see some more reviews on that, since it only has two right now. And after all, if you like my prose, you might like my poetry, too. lol) Btw, i am now caught up as far as Episode 13 of season 3, and i could mention some things about this story in conjunction with one of the recent episodes...but i was thinking it would be nice to keep this story relatively spoiler-free in case people want to read it who haven't seen season 3 yet. I know it might be unlikely that they still haven't seen any of it, but still. ;) So please keep that in mind when writing your reviews.

But now, on to your regularly scheduled programming.

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The following morning, Zuko slept late again, although not quite as late as he had yesterday. Around midmorning, the prince woke, and his uncle gave him some more broth and hot tea. While they ate, the old general observed that his charge didn't seem quite as listless and weary as on the previous day, and after they'd finished their meal, his good eye didn't immediately close again. Appearing far away in thought, the prince lay without speaking for a long while instead.

After several minutes had passed, his uncle inquired, "What's on your mind?"

Turning to look at him, Zuko answered slowly, "I was just thinking about what my life is going to be like now. I'll be living on this ship and looking for someone who's been missing for almost a hundred years, unable to--to go home, or to regain my honor (or change my father's mind about me), until I fulfill my mission or die trying. And...I suppose there's really no telling how long that will take, although I'm going to succeed if anyone can. It's not a very inviting prospect, is it?" he asked bleakly.

"Perhaps not," Iroh admitted. "But don't give up hope. Sometimes you can't see how you'll get through a period of great adversity, but eventually, I've found that things will start looking up in ways you didn't see before, perhaps when you least expect it. At any rate, you'll feel better when your eye heals, and you don't have to endure being injured any more."

"That's part of the problem, though," his nephew responded, appearing troubled. "What do I do until--until my eye gets better? When I'm awake, it hurts--_so_ much--all the time. That's why I've mostly been sleeping," he admitted quietly, shamefaced. "I...don't _want_ to constantly be in such terrible pain. And...to be honest, I'd rather just forget that--that I'm banished and dishonored. So...I've been trying to escape by spending as little time awake as I can. But even in my dreams, he finds me..." His voice dropping to a whisper, the prince trailed off and his gaze became preoccupied, as though inwardly it were transfixed in horrified fascination by a scene only he could perceive. However, Iroh was willing to bet he knew which scene it was, for his thoughts had also flown back to that Agni Kai arena, where two days ago a nightmare had indeed been cloaked by the bright, dreamlike sunshine.

Recalling them both to the present, Zuko then continued, "It serves me right, I suppose. I know it's the cowardly thing to do--hiding from my problems like this. I guess it just proves what Father said--I'm weak and worthless, and I don't deserve to be his son." In the young exile's last words, Iroh heard no bitterness or regret. Instead, Zuko spoke them with a kind of calm, despairing acceptance of this paternal judgment, for despite the torment it caused him both physically and internally, the prince would die rather than choose to act in a way that he believed to be disloyal to the one who had pronounced it a fitting sentence for him. Although Iroh knew from experience that no words of his could dampen that blind adoration, however, he could still try to change his nephew's opinion of himself.

"_No_, Zuko, you're _not_ worthless, but _price_less," the former general asserted. "You're wounded--you _need_ lots of rest. And I don't blame you for not wanting to deal with the memory of your banishment, and the pain of the burn."

"But I _should_ be dealing with it!" the prince countered. Turning away, he added in a constricted tone, "Father said--suffering--would be my teacher, and I'm not being a very good student by running away from my lessons like this."

"My dear nephew, I think you'll find that suffering enough awaits you in the days to come, without having to look for it," Iroh told him quietly, feeling his heart break as he said it. To this, however, Zuko gave no reply. As though wrestling with some inner quandary aroused by his uncle's words, the prince had instead tightly shut his good eye, and furrowed his brow in consternation.

When no reply came, the old general reaffirmed, "If you'd like to get some more sleep, by all means do so. You need your rest."

"Actually...I don't really want to go back to sleep--at least not right away," Zuko replied, opening his unbandaged eye and appearing somewhat surprised by his own decision. "Thank you for what you said, but I think I'd like to see if I can stay awake for a while. After all, I have been sleeping a lot lately, and...besides, I want to face my problems." Although Iroh didn't want his nephew to do himself further harm by striving to live up to standards to which the Fire Lord and thus Zuko himself believed that the prince had failed to adhere, the old Dragon decided that it might not hurt for his charge to stay awake for a while. In fact, perhaps it would benefit the young exile to have his conscious mind occupied with something other than the discomfort both his injury and his fall from grace inflicted upon him. At any rate, Iroh could always insist that Zuko get some more rest if he thought the prince needed to.

"All right then, why don't I regale you with exciting tales from my military career instead?" the former general suggested. Aware that his nephew enjoyed these stories, Iroh mentally reasoned that recounting them might help to keep the prince's thoughts off his troubles. Right now, it wasn't really healthy for Zuko to brood on his drastically worsened situation, as the old Dragon knew his nephew would if he were allowed to.

"All right, Uncle--I'd like that," the prince agreed.

-----

* * *

----- 

As the days passed, Zuko slowly began to recover, and didn't spend quite so much of his time asleep. While Iroh was of course glad that his nephew was regaining strength, another difficulty arose from the prince's increased periods of wakefulness. Although the old general tried to avoid having to tend the burn while Zuko was conscious, this was not always possible. At such times, the young exile simply lay still, both eyes firmly shut, and spoke no word as Iroh cleaned and re-bandaged his wound as gently as he was able. Despite Zuko's uncomplaining silence, however, the former general knew that this process still hurt his nephew. As though to help him endure it, the prince would clutch the edge of the blanket so tightly that his knuckles turned white, and he would allow himself a sigh of relief when his eye was done being touched for the moment. During the rest of the time, Zuko bore the pain bravely, but it didn't escape Iroh's observation that his nephew's gaze was almost always dulled with suffering, whether of body or of mind. However, the old Dragon did everything in his power to lighten the prince's many burdens, or at least to share them.

Nonetheless, although Zuko was making gradual progress physically, his uncle discovered that it presented a far greater challenge to tend the still more grievous wound that Ozai's wrathful scorn had emblazoned on the young exile's heart. No matter how often or how earnestly Iroh assured the prince of his own value, Zuko remained firm in the conviction, which his father had so deeply and so mercilessly impressed upon him, that he had brought all these trials upon himself by his perceived failure and weakness, and that he didn't deserve to be treated any differently. At times, Iroh found himself inwardly blazing once again with horrified anger at the injustice and savagery with which Fire Lord had chosen to punish his son, or overwhelmed by heart-wrending sorrow for what the young exile was suffering because of it. For the most part, however, the old general strove to set these emotions aside in order to be the patient, loving caretaker that his nephew needed so desperately at present. Although Iroh couldn't replace Ozai as a father to Zuko, and the prince couldn't take the place of Lu Ten as a son to Iroh, the old Dragon did his best to nurture and protect his nephew's injured body and broken spirit with as much care and tenderness as parent ought to employ in looking after his child.

When Zuko was awake, Iroh did all he could to encourage his downcast nephew, but he found that the prince's responsiveness varied. If Zuko felt like talking about the circumstances that had so radically altered his life (as well as his face), then he and his uncle would have long conversations in which the old general struggled to bring them both to some understanding of this earth-shattering turn of events that seemed at first glance so incomprehensible. During these discussions, Iroh observed that the prince would return again and again to his father's expression directly before the flames were unleashed, which appeared to have been seared into the young exile's memory as surely as Zuko's own anguished cry in the moment immediately following had been seared into his uncle's heart. Although Iroh wasn't attempting to conceal the fact that he had looked away at that time, neither was he certain when or how to bring it up (or even if this revelation wouldn't do more harm than good), and his nephew hadn't directly asked him about it. Still, the old Dragon wished there were some way he could help Zuko to let go of this recollection that caused him so much emotional agony, and Iroh wasn't sure that he knew the best way to do that--at least, without having seen his brother's expression with his own eyes.

Although the young exile appeared at times to listen and respond with minimal beratement of himself to his uncle's reaffirmation of his worth, there were long periods during which a black depression would take hold of Zuko, and for hours on end he would do nothing but stare dully into space, lost in the misery of his own shame and despair. While the prince was in this state of mind, he would at best give Iroh toneless, monosyllabic answers, and at worst the former general would have to practically force him to eat and drink. In an effort to draw his nephew out of this dejection, Iroh would often sit and talk to him, although he rarely received a reply. When the old Dragon could think of nothing else to say, he simply held one of the prince's hands in both of his own, wishing to let Zuko know that he cared enough to be there when his nephew needed him, and to show the young exile that there was someone who loved him, and considered him worthwhile.

While Zuko's mood seldom rose above melancholy in the daytime, his sense of hopelessness and self-degradation was always worsened when the sun went down. For benders of fire (and to some extent for the human race at large), whatever tribulations they were facing loomed larger when the source of their element had forsaken the sky until dawn. To increase the prince's dread of the hours of darkness, every night he still woke screaming from fire-haunted dreams, and Iroh could certainly imagine that the prospect of having to relive that terrible duel yet again in the realm of slumber might well contribute to further dampening Zuko's spirits. Nonetheless, the old general was always there to comfort his nephew, and did all he could to drive away the terrors invading the prince's unconscious mind. Sometimes Iroh pursued this course by talking with Zuko once more about the events that had become the subject of his nightmares. While he could not lie to the prince by telling him that whatever fear had returned to trouble his dreams had no longer any power to harm him, the former general did assure his nephew that he would not have to face his troubles alone. When Zuko was especially upset and incoherent, however, it would often appear to Iroh that he needed simply to hold his charge close until a kinder sleep took him. This would the old Dragon do, sometimes crooning a lullaby as he cradled the banished prince in his arms.

After supper one night about a week into their journey, the former general noticed that his nephew was shivering. Although the room he and Zuko shared didn't feel particularly cold to Iroh, he was aware that those who have been injured don't possess as much energy to direct toward keeping their bodies the right temperature.

"Let me get you another blanket," the old general suggested, and did so.

At first Zuko did not respond, but when his uncle had spread the blanket over him, the prince asked quietly, "Why does the night have to be so dark, and so long?" In his unbandaged eye there was a lonely, forlorn expression that had become usual for him at night, and that reminded Iroh of what his nephew had now become--a child cast adrift in a vast, unfriendly wilderness, with no certainty of when or how he might ever return to his beloved home.

Desiring to remind the young exile that he had at least one benevolent companion remaining, Iroh smiled kindly down at Zuko as he reclaimed his seat, and answered, "That is so the world can rest, my nephew. If it were day all the time, we'd all get very tired."

The prince let out a disconsolate sigh. "All the same, I wish it_ were_ always day. I don't like the dark--the sky seems so empty without the sun. And my problems...seem even bigger. And so hopeless."

"It's true that as firebenders, we're never at our best at night-time," the former general acknowledged, heart aching for his nephew. "However, you must remember that the stars can only come out to shine once the sun goes down. I'm sure you'll feel better in the morning," he added, trying to lighten the prince's mood.

"I hope so. I just wish...it wouldn't be quite so bad if I didn't keep_ dreaming_ about--about the duel," Zuko finished, appearing uncomfortable. As if to himself, he continued in a low tone, "It's bad enough...burning...when I'm awake." Looking at his uncle, he elaborated, "And even though I'm really not burning--anymore--it still _feels_ like I am. I--I wish it wouldn't keep hurting quite so much," the prince confessed. Although he was absently fingering his bandage as he spoke, Iroh had a feeling that in those last few words, his nephew had been referring to more than simply the pain of his wound. As excruciating as the burn surely was even after the days that had passed since the duel, the old Dragon knew that Zuko was tormented far more cruelly by the fact that the Fire Lord had seen fit to strip the prince of his honor, as well as what little of his father's good opinion and love he may have possessed before their fateful Agni Kai.

Wishing to lift the young exile out of his present dejection, the former general replied, "Remember that even in the darkest of nights, there is hope, and that the sun will come again. I know that life is very difficult for you right now, but I will help you through this time of hardship. I won't let you suffer alone."

For a moment there was silence, and then Zuko softly called, "Uncle?"

"What is it, my nephew?"

Hesitating slightly, the prince inquired, "Did you see...his--my father's--face, just before--before..." Seeming overcome by the pain of recalling his ordeal, Zuko fell silent, and dropped his gaze. Drawing a deep breath, the old general inwardly prepared to tell his nephew of the betrayal (for so a part of him called it) that sympathy had bade him commit.

"No, Zuko, I--I'm afraid I didn't see the way he looked at you. I've known your father all his life, my prince. I knew he...would not show mercy to you. I didn't think I could bear to watch him...wound you as he did, because you are my entire world. In the moment before my brother unleashed the flames, when you raised your tear-stained face to gaze up at him, I must confess that...I looked away. I'm sorry--I didn't mean to forsake you in your time of need."

"Don't apologize, Uncle," Zuko told him in a hollow-sounding tone, as though Iroh's words had renewed the anguish of that memory. "I don't blame you for not wanting to watch. It was...horrible. Sheer agony. I...could feel my skin starting to crack, and...blister, as--as Father sent the fire toward me, to _eat_ at my face and sear away every thought except...the white-hot _pain_ of the burning. To--to make me suffer. " Closing his good eye, the prince dropped his voice to barely above a whisper, and went on with apparent difficulty. "But even that was better than--than the _anger _and..._contempt_ in his eyes, as he looked into mine. That burned me worse than any firebending ever could. And...I know a prince shouldn't cry, but...knowing how badly I'd disappointed Father, and--and what he_ thought_ of me--his useless, disobedient son who wouldn't even fight for my honor when he told me to...I just couldn't stop the tears from coming. And they burned, too." Before he replied, Iroh found it necessary to brush away a few tears of his own.

"My dear nephew, you have suffered much already, and I would have spared you any of it that I could. But all my attempts failed, and here you are, wounded and banished. And not only that, but I even took my eyes from you in your moment of greatest duress, when you cried out amidst the roar of my brother's flames. My heart tells me I betrayed and abandoned you by doing so."

"You don't have to say that, Uncle," his nephew protested. "Like I said, it was _horrible_. I know that...being publicly shamed was a fitting part of the consequences for...my disobedience, but no-one should _have_ to watch that--not if they don't want to. It was..._my_ punishment, not yours. You didn't disobey the Fire Lord--I did. I...deserved what I got. I _don't_ blame you for turning away."

"Nonetheless, I blame myself," the old general quietly insisted. "To be honest, it seems to me that _I_ am the failure, not you. I'm sorry I allowed you to enter the war council chamber, where your heart drove you to speak out against the generals' cruelty. I'm sorry I let my brother hurt you, when I knew your pleading would fall on deaf ears. And I'm sorry I couldn't convince him to change his decree that you were to be banished--I cannot tell you how much it grieves me that you must endure this fate, when you have in my eyes done nothing wrong." Recalling the shock and horror of that moment in the dueling arena, he added heavily, "When you collapsed in my arms, and when I saw clearly what your father had _done_ to you, I was afraid...oh my nephew, I feared so terribly that I might lose you, and that I would have to endure once more...the grief that crashed down upon me at Ba Sing Se. And I can't help feeling that in part, it's my fault this has happened to you, because I didn't try hard enough to prevent it."

"Uncle, stop!" cried the prince in frustration, as though he found that in absolving Iroh of these charges, it was necessary to further proclaim his own guilt. "_I'm_ the one who should be apologizing, not you! I wanted to go into the war council when it wasn't my place, I spoke out of turn about that plan, and I...wouldn't fight when my father and my _Lord_ commanded me to. And now I've dragged you down with me into exile and disgrace, when you didn't do anything wrong, and you shouldn't have had to leave the Fire Nation. _I'm_ the real failure!"

"Zuko, you know I don't see you that way!" Iroh exclaimed in concern.

"But Father does," his nephew persisted unhappily, "and how can I say he's wrong? He is the Fire Lord, and I...I'm only an outcast. It's not my place to contradict him."

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm not very high in your father's esteem either, and he's known me longer," the old Dragon told Zuko. "He's always thought that I'm too soft-hearted and friendly to make a good Fire Lord." Briefly he smiled. "And I drink too much tea."

"I don't think that about you," the prince slowly responded. "Although, you _do_ drink a lot of tea. But that's not a bad thing," he added quickly.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," answered the former general with a soft chuckle. Sobering, he observed with a touch of gentle humor, "Here we are, each trying to convince the other that we're the one to blame for your banishment. It's an odd situation to be in, isn't it--fighting for the right to apologize?"

"I guess so--yes, it is," Zuko admitted.

"Listen, I know how very difficult it is to choose to believe differently from someone you respect and love, and whose opinion you value so highly. So instead, why don't we just go ahead and forgive eachother anyway, even though we each feel the other doesn't need to apologize?"

"All right," the prince agreed.

"Now then, will you forgive me for letting it come to this, my nephew?" the old Dragon inquired sincerely.

"I still don't think you should have to ask," Zuko replied, "but I will, of course. And now it's my turn. Uncle, I'm sorry you had to get involved in my disgrace, and I'm sorry for...everything else."

"You were already forgiven," Iroh stated simply, "although you know I don't believe you've done wrong."

"Thank you, Uncle," came the quiet response.

"You're certainly welcome," the former general assured his nephew. Then he continued, "I want you to know that you will always have my forgiveness, no matter what you do. But get some rest now-- things will probably look more hopeful when the sun returns, you know. And I have faith that there will be a light at the end of this dark tunnel, even though we can't see it right now."

"I wish I could agree with you," the prince sighed, "but...I just don't see what you see. The future looks so hopeless right now, and I feel drained of everything except all the things I _don't_ want to think about. I'm sorry, Uncle. I guess I just don't have your faith."

"Don't feel bad about it," the old Dragon responded, trying to sound encouraging. "I'll have faith and hope enough for both of us. And this I will promise you: no matter how long and hard the road, I'll always be right there by your side. I'll never forsake you (or stop loving you) as long as I live." Although Zuko didn't reply, the ghost of a wan smile appeared on his drawn and pale face, and that was all the thanks his uncle needed.

----

* * *

---- 

Although it seemed to Iroh that his charge had moved closer in that discussion toward healing emotionally as well as physically, he knew that it would take the work of more than one day's conversation (or one evening's conversation, for that matter) for not only Zuko's face but also his heart to completely recover from the wound left there by the Fire Lord's terrible lesson, if indeed it ever could. Later that same night this was proven, for the old general woke to hear his nephew crying out once again as another nightmare tortured him. Hastening to the prince's bedside, Iroh leaned down to gently shake him out of this hostile slumber.

"Zuko, wake up--you're dreaming." With a start, the young exile opened his good eye, breathing hard. Then he shrank back in fear, seeming to mistake the dark shape looming over him for the tormentor of his dream.

Sitting down on the prince's bed, Iroh softly assured him, "It's me, nephew--I'm not going to hurt you. And I won't let anyone else do it, either." His apprehension evidently melting into intense relief, Zuko closed the visible eye again, and turned his head away.

"That's right--you're safe now," the old Dragon soothed. Cupping the unbandaged side of the prince's face in one hand, he found that it was wet with tears.

"I'm--I'm sorry, Uncle," Zuko choked out. "I'm..._trying_ to--to get myself...under control. It's just--I thought you were--it was worse than the burning, making him so _ashamed_ of me...! I'm sorry," he repeated in a whisper.

Pulling his nephew to a sitting position, the former general replied gently but firmly, "No, don't be. You can't bottle up all of your pain and fear inside you. It will only poison you from the inside out, and hurt you even more." As the old Dragon spoke these words, he was reminded of the angry, bitter young man in the vision that he had sworn to prevent, if he could. At present, however, comforting Zuko was what mattered the most, and so it was to this that Iroh devoted his attention.

Enfolding the prince in a warm, sheltering embrace, he murmured, "You have to let it all out. Go ahead and cry. There's no-one here but me, and I am not someone from whom you need to hide your tears." Appearing unable to hold back his loneliness and despair any longer, the young exile's defenses came crashing down, and he obeyed that gentle direction.

As Iroh tightly held the wounded prince who had come to know so much of anguish and loss recently, Zuko buried his face in his uncle's shoulder, while his body was racked with bitter sobs. Soon the prince had soaked the front of Iroh's robe with tears from the only eye that could still produce them, but the old general did not care in the slightest. As he had known since the Agni Kai that had shattered his nephew's world (although perhaps that event had only made him consciously realize what had been true long before), Iroh would do anything to protect and comfort the child he loved. Remembering someone who had shared this conviction, which in her case had probably led to her unexplained and tragic disappearance, the old Dragon promised himself once again that he would continue to look after Zuko for the sake of Ursa as well as that of the prince and Iroh himself. The young exile might be doomed to wander fruitlessly in the wide, unfriendly world, but he would not lose the only remaining family member who still cared about him.

At last Zuko quieted, and the former general became aware that the prince had fallen into an exhausted slumber. Unwilling to relinquish the worn out child from the protective circle of his arms, Iroh leaned back against the wall at the head of the bed, where there hung a banner upon which the Fire Nation insignia was emblazoned in cloth the color of blood and flame. Glancing tenderly back down at his charge, the old Dragon watched a shadow pass over Zuko's face, as though some ghost of the evils that the prince had been forced to endure haunted his unconscious mind even now.

"Don't be afraid, my dear little one," Iroh softly reassured him, hoping that his nephew would somehow sense these words even in slumber. "You're safe now. I won't let anyone hurt you." Whether it was by these words of encouragement, or perhaps because of the love for Zuko that resided so deeply in the one who spoke them, it seemed that the young exile's troubled dreams were calmed after all. His expression cleared, and Iroh felt his own heart, so burdened with concern and sympathy for his charge, ease a little.

* * *

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A/N: Hope you liked it! To tell you the truth, i was a bit worried that i'd gone somewhat overboard with the fluff/angst factor, or that i'm repeating myself. But hopefully you didn't think so...it's hard to tell with one's own work. As regards notes on the text, i'd like to point out that we have, as you've seen, finally gotten to...a better place of some sort...(argh! my mental thesaurus is malfunctioning again!) concering the distress on Zuko's part that has been caused in this story by the memory of how his father looked at him when Iroh turned away. (Another long, confusing sentence...I'm prone to those.) Also, in the discussion in that part of this chapter, Iroh's the one feeling like he failed, and Zuko's the one insisting that his uncle didn't fail, so it's kind of reversed that way. And in case you were wondering about the head of the prince's bed being against the FN banner instead of how it is in the show, that was a conscious decision on my part. You see, i needed a wall or something for Iroh to be able to lean up against, and i figured it was possible that Zuko might have rearranged his room at some point. ;) Oh, and i'm planning to post an illustration (well, actually more than one) for this chapter, but i'm not sure when i'll get around to that yet. You're welcome to comment on the illustrations i already have up for the previous chapters, tho. Also, i thought while writing Iroh's promise about Zuko always having his forgiveness no matter what was especially interesting in consideration with Crossroads of Destiny. Because i think it's true, you know, even tho Zuko betrayed him. That's just the kind of person Iroh is, and that's the kind of love he has for his nephew. (I love foreshadowing...lol.) But anyway, i suppose it's time to go ahead and post this so that my wonderful, patient readers can finally read it. (After I take a deep breath and cross my fingers, that is...)


	5. I Burn For Thee

A/N: Sorry for the very long wait! (Real life, writer's block, etc...) I hope this chapter's worth it! Thanks for being patient, and for your reviews of the last chapter! I won't say much here except that while I've been trying to continue to keep this story pretty free of S3 spoilers, those who have seen certain episodes will probably recognize some of the lines and so on. But I don't think you'd know if you hadn't watched them. Also, I mentioned Iroh's "spiritual journey(s)" at one point, but I wasn't sure when he'd made them or how many there had been, so I just kind of guessed. (I suppose there could have possibly been a journey besides his trip to the spirit world that counted as a "spiritual" one--you know, what with soul-searching and trying to understand the meaning of life and all, which you can do even in the normal world.) And I wasn't sure exactly how long it would take to sail from the Fire Nation capitol to the Earth Kingdom, but it's going to be about three weeks, because I need it to be for the story. Hope that sounds reasonable. But anyway, on to your "regularly" scheduled programming, which I hope you enjoy!

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At some point during his nightly vigil, Iroh must have been overtaken by slumber--the next he knew, it was morning, and the day was well begun. Glancing down at Zuko, who remained soundly asleep in his uncle's arms, the old general observed that his charge's face (the side of it that was not swathed in white cloth) was still streaked with last night's tears. His gaze softening in sympathy, Iroh studied his nephew for a long while, making no move to get up just yet. In due time, he would begin the tasks of the day, but everything that would later be required of him held no sway over this moment. Right now, all he wished to do was stay exactly as he was, watching over the child he loved so dearly, and keeping him safe.

At length, however, the thought struck the old Dragon that when Zuko awoke, the prince might be a little embarrassed at their current proximity in this particular situation. Although displays of emotion and intimacy didn't bother Iroh, he remembered that by the young (and especially by _this_ young one), such things were usually avoided like the plague, unless necessity dictated otherwise. Perfectly willing to spare his nephew any further discomfort that he could, the former general carefully extracted himself from Zuko's unconscious form. While doing so, he endeavored not to wake the prince from his untroubled sleep, for it was sorely needed and had lately been far too scarce.

Despite his efforts, Zuko began to stir as Iroh stiffly rose and tried to loosen his aching muscles, which were feeling the effects of remaining in one position for so long. (This, of course, was a small price to pay for being there when the prince needed him to stay, but waking up stiff and sore was hardly pleasant). As it always did these days, the young exile's slumber-calmed face grew clouded as he gradually returned to the waking world, where his conscious mind would again be forced to take up the burden of remembering all that he had suffered of late, and would still be made to suffer.

Wishing in vain that he could somehow prevent the flight of peace along with oblivion from his nephew's heart, Iroh looked on with helpless pity as Zuko slowly opened his unbandaged eye, revealing the gold that had once so brightly shone there. Now, it was already dulled by the pain that wakefulness returned to him. Yet this time, when the prince caught sight of his uncle standing watchfully at his bedside, his brow cleared a little. As their eyes met for a long moment, it seemed to Iroh that the oppressive weight with which the prince's hardships lay upon his soul was lightened somewhat by the returned gaze of one who loved him, just as Zuko's fitful dreams of the preceding night had been calmed by his uncle's voice.

Following breakfast, as the former general wound a clean bandage around his nephew's head, the prince asked softly, "Can I get up today, Uncle?" After studying him for a moment, Iroh concluded that it probably wouldn't hurt his charge to be out of bed for a while, and the chance to engage himself in something more active would likely do Zuko good.

"Yes, I believe that would be all right," the old Dragon assented.

And so he lent his (rather often needed) assistance as his nephew washed and dressed, and afterwards helped Zuko pull his hair back in the princely topknot once again. When they'd completed this routine, Iroh allowed his charge to grasp his arm for support as the young exile slowly and a bit shakily rose to his feet. Cautiously removing his hand from his uncle's arm, the prince ventured a tentative step forward, then another more quickly--and his legs, weakened like the rest of his body by his injury and by their period of disuse while recovering from it, buckled underneath him. Fortunately, Iroh was able to catch his nephew before he hit the floor. However, judging by the way Zuko was scowling as his uncle pulled him to his feet again, injuring himself further was clearly not the prince's greatest concern

"This is humiliating," he muttered under his breath as Iroh helped him return to his seat on the bed. Upon hearing this complaint, the former general hid a smile. To tell the truth, it rather relieved him to hear Zuko beginning to sound like his feisty, hot-tempered self again.. It seemed the old fire was returning to his spirit, and Iroh was too thankful for words that the altering of his nephew's destiny and of his face hadn't completely seared that inner flame into cold, dead ashes, as the old general had feared.

Aloud he offered, "Why don't you take my arm again, Prince Zuko? Then we can walk around the room a few times until you start to get the feel of using your legs again." Sighing loudly in evident frustration at his own helplessness, the prince nonetheless obeyed. So together they made several slow rounds of their quarters, Zuko gradually becoming more steady on his feet. After several minutes, however, Iroh noticed that the intense concentration which this activity required of his nephew, and which the young exile was prone to giving anything he did, appeared to be wearing him out. Despite the relatively cool temperature of the room, there were beads of sweat on the prince's forehead, and his chest had begun to heave.

"Do you want to lie back down now?" the old general inquiered in concern.

"No...Uncle," his charge replied obstinately, despite the labored breaths that now interrupted him between each phrase. "I don't...want to stop..quite yet. I'm just... a little tired...that's all." Although Iroh wanted to be careful not to let Zuko take his natural determination far enough to do himself harm, the old Dragon once again reasoned that continuing to practice walking might add to his nephew's incentive to recover, which could grow rather hard to come by now that the prince's future was so bleak--Zuko's will to survive and keep on trying was very strong, but it might not always be enough. Too often on the battlefield, Iroh had watched his fellow soldiers succumb to a wound that should not have proved fatal, because they had lost the desire to live.

"Then why don't you rest for a few minutes instead," he suggested out loud. "Here, you can sit down again on your bed." Taking his uncle's advice, the prince sank down. Leaning heavily on his knees, Zuko remained silent for several minutes as he caught his breath. Then he looked up expectantly.

Offering his arm once more to his nephew, the former general asked, "Are you sure you're up for more?"

"Yes," his nephew stated firmly. "If it's all right with you, I'd like to go...somewhere I can see the sun and the sky--that is, if you don't mind helping me get there. I'm sorry--I wish I could walk on my own, so I didn't have to hang onto you like this." As always when the young exile believed himself to have failed to be as strong as the Fire Lord wished him to be, the shame that Zuko consequently experienced a shadow passed over his face as he spoke. Lowering his eyes (at least, the unmarred one), the prince looked away.

"I don't mind at all," the former general assured his nephew. "I'm more than happy to help you in any way I can. If you're ready, then, we can go to the deck now, but remember to take it slowly." Cautioning his charge thus, Iroh aided him in making his first expedition from their quarters since boarding the ship. Despite their earlier session of walking practice, they made slow progress, and they had to halt quite often so that Zuko could rest. At last, however, they emerged into the more open and unconfined space of the deck. While the prince continued to depend on his uncle's arm to support most of his weight, in that place he stood a bit taller, seeming invigorated by the fresh, salty air. Although the ocean breeze made for a cooler climate than they were used to in the Fire Nation, it was a bright, sunny day--which, it now occurred to Iroh, was a very fortunate circumstance for Zuko's first outing since being wounded. Tilting his head upward, the prince closed his good eye, as though to better soak in the warmth and radiance of his element's source.

Hoping to further improve his nephew's mood, Iroh proposed, "When you are well enough, I'll continue your firebending training, Prince Zuko." By the time the young exile turned meet his uncle's gaze, his own had once more darkened with internal suffering. For some reason, it seemed as though a heavy stormcloud had cut off the prince from the momentary relief bestowed on his spirit, leaving him alone with his afflictions.

"No, Uncle," he answered softly yet with resolve. "Thank you for offering to teach me, but I'm not going to firebend any more."

"What made you decide that?" inquired the old general, understandably troubled by his nephew's words.

Turning his head so that his face was not visible, with apparent difficulty Zuko answered, "When _commanded_ to firebend by my father and my Lord...I didn't. Since that's the case, I don't see how I have the right to use my element any more. I'm not worthy." Although Iroh's heart was breaking for the dull anguish evident in his charge's reply, he made an effort to sound encouraging.

"That doesn't make you unworthy, nephew. You wouldn't fight your father because you honor and love him. I respect you for that."

"_Don't_, Uncle," the prince entreated sharply, with something like a hiss of pain in his voice. "I disobeyed _Father_, whatever the reason! That is _not_ something worth honoring!"

"Whether it is or not," the old Dragon replied gently, "you can't simply refuse to use your element. If you don't learn how to control it, then it's possible that it could break out in devastating ways. You have to master it, to protect yourself and others." And yet, he couldn't help but remember that no-one had protected Zuko a week ago in that dueling arena, despite the presence of one who could have, if he had been sure at the time that defying the Fire Lord was the right thing to do (and how that question--_Should I have?--_had tortured him). Evidently his nephew's thoughts were running along similar lines, or at least related ones, as the former general presently discovered.

"Mastering fire...doesn't mean...you'll never...get hurt by it," the young exile reminded Iroh in a low tone, once more appearing to struggle for breath. "I know...we're not...invincible, Uncle. Fire makes...no difference...between us...and kindling." As though to shut out an evil memory, he tightly closed the unbandaged eye. "Benders...can still...burn."

As the prince spoke, his uncle too dwelt again with remembered agony (though in his case purely emotional) on that devastating Agni Kai, and once more felt himself ache inside for what his charge had undergone because of it. Although he had no intention of letting Zuko's decision be the last word on the subject of continuing to train, the old Dragon understood the reasons behind his nephew's choice. Additionally, Iroh knew full well that if he pushed the subject further at present, his charge's sense of honor would demand that he uphold and defend the actions and opinion of the father who had decreed such torment for him, and thus he would keep on fighting for all he was worth against Iroh's attempts to persuade him that fighting that battle was not as necessary as the prince believed in order for him to act honorably. In the future, this matter would at some point have to be brought up again, and Zuko's convictions about it potentially challenged in a difficult and painful way. At that time, the former general would employ all his wisdom in finding the most constructive approach to changing his nephew's mind. However, to do it when, as now, the prince was drained both physically and emotionally would only further exhaust him, and deepen the wound on his bruised and bleeding spirit.

"We don't have to talk about this any more right now," Iroh told him reassuringly. To this Zuko made no answer--at the moment, it appeared to require great effort of him just to breathe. As he slumped over, leaning heavily on his uncle's arm, the latter mentally kicked himself for not thinking to have a chair brought up along with them so the injured prince could sit down and rest. Hoping to find someone to help them get out of this predicament, Iroh craned his neck to look back into the interior of the ship. Fortunately, a crewmember happened to be passing by.

With polite urgency, the old general called out, "Excuse me, please--do you think you could bring a chair for my nephew?"

When the man agreed, Iroh briefly yet sincerely responded, "Thank you very much--we appreciate your kindness." While this errand was being fulfilled, uncle and nephew waited in silence, the old Dragon paying close attention to how his charge was holding up. At length, the crewmember returned, and inquired where he should set down the chair that he now carried.

To discover the answer, Iroh asked the prince, "Where would you like to sit, my nephew?"

Swaying slightly, Zuko whispered, 'Toward...the stern." At that reply, his uncle was pierced by yet another a intense pang of sympathy. Well could he guess why the young exile wished to his chair to be placed at the rear of the ship--that way, he could gaze homeward to the land he so loved, and from whence he was most likely banished forever.

"Then that is where we shall go," Iroh verbally acceded. With the crewmember following, chair in hand (that is, chair in arms), the old Dragon helped Zuko stumble toward their destination. Almost as soon as the chair was set down for him, it was occupied, for the last of prince's stamina deserted him, and his legs gave out. Seeing his nephew thus situated where he could recover his strength, Iroh once again thanked the man who had carried out the errand for them. After bowing respectfully and stating that it was nothing, the crewmember left, and the old general turned back to Zuko. While the prince regained his energy, his uncle said nothing--it was enough once more to keep silent vigil over the well-being of his charge. When several minutes had passed, however, the prince appeared to be less worn out than he had been, and that part of Iroh's mission was fulfilled.

"Is there anything else you need?" he inquired. "I'd be happy to get whatever I can for you."

"I need my honor back." Although his nephew sounded forlorn and still somewhat drained, lonely determination was etched into his face, which had become far too drawn and pale in the aftermath of injury and exile. Closing his good eye, Zuko then sighed softly. Like his next words, that small, gentle exhalation of breath seemed to Iroh to speak of a world of heartache and sadness. "_All_ I need is to redeem myself in Father's eyes. But since that's currently impossible...no, Uncle, there isn't anything I need--at least, not that you can get for me." Before the former general could offer him any consolation for not being able to obtain for the prince what his heart craved most, the latter went on after a brief pause.

"Actually...I'd like to be alone for a while, if that's all right."

"Of course it is," affirmed Iroh. "I'll make sure the crew knows not to bother you. I won't be far away, though, and I'll come check on you in a little while."

"Thank you, Uncle." This last was spoken politely, but the old general could tell that Zuko was eager for solitude. So, although he was inwardly reluctant to leave his charge's side for the first time since boarding the ship, Iroh simply gave him an encouraging smile, and started walking away. Before he'd gone far, however, the wind carried back to him the sound of a low voice singing softly, almost as though to its owner. Halting in order to listen, the former general recognized the melody as their nation's anthem.

"O Fire Lord, my flame--" Here the singer abruptly fell silent. Turning back to look, Iroh saw his nephew give a small, almost involuntary shake of his head, as though the action were merely a physical manifestation of some inward resolve. When Zuko began the anthem again, it was in an even quieter tone, and his listener noted the slight change the prince had made in the lyrics.

"O Fire Lord, _I _burn for thee..."

Aware that the comfort he longed to pour out would at present be unwelcome, Iroh blinked rapidly several times instead. With a great effort, he then left behind the young exile who was so precious to him, and who needed his love so desperately.

_And I burn for you, my child._

-

* * *

-

Partly in an effort to to keep himself from worrying about Zuko, but also because he had intended to do it all along when the chance came, Iroh took this opportunity to start becoming better acquainted with the others on board their ship, and to take an interest in their daily affairs. In their quest for the Avatar, it was not unlikely that all those involved would have to face hardship and danger, and the old Dragon believed that whatever leadership or guidance he might be called upon to give would provide the most succor in such circumstances if he had the genuine respect (and not that solely merited by higher rank) of the men who would be working with Zuko and himself toward accomplishing the prince's task, probably for quite some time (if not forever). He wanted those running the ship to trust him, and to know that he cared about what concerned _them_ as well as what affected Zuko. Besides, while Iroh was very thankful that his charge was regaining the fire of his spirit, at some (likely near) point in the future the old general little doubted that he might be needed to resolve disputes between his proud, hot-tempered nephew and the members of the crew.

When the morning drew toward its close, the former general wrapped up a fascinating discussion regarding favorite hobbies and past-times with some of his new friends (for under the right and usually very frequent circumstances, it only took a half a morning--sometimes even less--for Iroh to begin considering another individual as such) and inquired if they would be so good as to help him put together a mid-day meal for his nephew and himself. To this request they readily assented, and would have done all of the work themselves, if the former general had let them. However, he insisted on being of use in some way, and so ended up bearing the tea tray (which suited him perfectly). Thus laden with food, dishes, table, and an additional chair, Iroh and his cohorts returned to where the banished prince still sat almost without moving, his gaze fixed in pensive silence on the horizon. Breaking into Zuko's brooding reverie as unobtrusively as he could, the old general softly addressed his nephew.

"We've brought you some lunch, Prince Zuko--shall you and I eat it now?" Appearing startled, the prince looked up at him, and then around at the others.

"Oh, um, well I guess so--I am a little hungry," he admitted.

"I am glad to hear you say that--I wouldn't want all this delicious food to go to waste," Iroh commented. While he spoke, his companions were busy laying down their burdens and arranging them suitably. When this was done, the former general too set his load down on the table. Then he took his seat beside the prince, releasing his helpers with words of gratitude.

For several minutes following this, uncle and nephew ate in silence--or at least, the uncle did. As for Zuko, he had once more begun staring fixedly out to sky and sea, not having touched his food.

Deciding it would probably benefit his charge to talk about whatever was causing his preoccupation, Iroh observed, "You seem down, Prince Zuko--is something bothering you?" In answer, the prince only turned away, giving another sigh that spoke volumes. This time, however, it was disconsolate but also restless, as though Zuko were inwardly wrestling with a dilemma to which he could find no answer.

Recognizing that he would have to try a different approach to drawing out his nephew (especially if the prince had been revisited by one of his bouts of despondency), the old Dragon remarked pleasantly, "It's nice being able to eat lunch with you out here. Of course, I don't mind a bit that you've had to take your meals in bed up till now, and I think you're not ready to be completely un-bedridden yet. Nonetheless, it's good to see that you're getting better."

Grimacing in dissatisfaction, Zuko muttered cryptically, "I wish I were." Whether he meant that he would prefer to be completely un-bedridden _now_, that he didn't feel like he was getting better and wished he were, or whether he meant something else entirely, Iroh could not tell.

However, the former general was willing to bet that without disclosing whatever was causing him vexation, the prince would have a hard time discovering a solution to it.

"You know," he suggested, "if anything's on your mind, it might be good to talk about it, instead of struggling to work through it all on your own."

Glancing sideways at his uncle, Zuko opened his mouth as if to speak, hesitated, then closed it again, seeming unsure how to begin.

"Whatever it is, you can tell me," Iroh prompted. "What's wrong, my nephew?" At last his charge answered, still seeming discontented and fretful.

"I don't know--it's just...I thought that finally getting up out of bed (and leaving that room I've been in all this time) would help me feel better--it's been, well, not exactly pleasant this past week, and I wanted to get _out_, to escape everything that's...been happening to me. But of course I can't just leave all that behind--at least, not...not this part of it..." As the young exile gestured toward his bandage, he appeared uncomfortable and painfully conscious of himself, as he always did at the mention of the wound that was his sentence for steadfast loyalty.

"Maybe I was just being silly, but I thought coming up here might help, somehow. But instead, being out here on the deck, seeing nothing but water and sky until the horizon...it's only made my situation all the more real to me, and it's finally sinking in just how _big_ the world is that I'm going to have to search, possibly for _years_--though I hope not! I don't want to have to stay away from home that long!--to find the Avatar, and regain my honor. And until then, I'll be nothing but a banished prince, doomed to wander the world in disgrace." Flushing somewhat, Zuko glanced down at his hands for a moment as though to collect his thoughts, and then returned to gazing at the horizon.

"While I was sitting up here, it finally hit me hard that I...I'm not who I was a week ago. Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation, son of the Fire Lord and heir to the throne--that person's gone, and I don't know when he'll be coming back. Now, I'm just Zuko the exile--I'm on this ship instead of in the Fire Palace, I'm...wounded, I can't even walk properly, and...I _can't go home_. Not yet, at least. It's still so hard to believe that I'm...I'm forbidden to ever set foot in my homeland again--at least, not without the Avatar. I...didn't think my father would really do this to me, no matter how badly I messed up. I guess I was wrong to just assume that," he concluded in a subdued tone, as though in acknowledgement of or submission to his disgrace.

"I know it's hard," Iroh softly replied, searching within himself for the wisdom that would best comfort his nephew. "We've both had to endure many difficult changes lately, and I understand perfectly that it can take a very long while to accept it when something terrible and earth-shattering has taken place in your life." Momentarily the still, pale face of another dearly loved young man flashed before the old general's eyes, and their vision blurred a little as Zuko forcefully delivered hs response.

"I _know_ it's real--or, I'm trying to accept that--but...Uncle, what I'm saying is...I just don't know if I can handle it! I want--more than anything, I want to go _home_, and...and have my father be proud of me. I want him to know that I'm his loyal son, and I always will be, no matter what he does to--to punish me." Lowering his gaze, he continued speaking in a voice barely above a whisper, and his next words pierced Iroh's heart once more with acute compassion.

"I know that--that I deserved...what I got, and I don't blame him one bit for doing this to me. It's...his right, as both my father and my Fire Lord. But still...even if I can't change the fact that I'm banished, I want--I want to see my face healing, and I want to be able to look at you with both eyes instead of...just one. I don't want to not be able to walk without leaning on you, and I don't want to constantly be in pain--although...I know he said I'd learn through suffering, and I don't want to disobey him (again). I don't want to keep..._dreaming_ about the duel _every single night_. All of this just reminds me how weak and useless I am, at least in Father's eyes, and I just...I just want things to go back to normal," he finished, his tone rising again as a hint of desperation crept into it.

While Iroh was certain, much to his sorrow, that their lives would never again be the same, he also knew from experience how easy it was to give into despair at a time like this. So in order to prevent this, the former general prepared himself to turn their conversation in a new direction, and also a very difficult one. Despite the fact that to him (and probably in some sense to his nephew as well), it felt as though a knife were being twisted in his heart every time the topic he had in mind was even mentioned in passing, discussing it might help Iroh keep the flickering candle of the prince's hope from dying out altogether.

"Zuko, do you remember when I first came home again, after my defeat at Ba Sing Se?" he asked quietly, fighting against the tightness of his throat.

"Yes, Uncle--I remember that," his companion replied evasively, sounding as reluctant as Iroh felt to pursue this subject. In this, however, the old Dragon knew that he would have be as relentless to both of them in compassion as his brother was in cruelty.

"At that time, we were both dealing with sadness and loss, for it was soon after your mother and...my son...had been taken from us. When I first returned to the Fire Palace, I remember thinking how lonely and adrift it seemed you were, scorned by your sister and all but ignored by your father, as he accustomed himself to the obligations and responsibilities that a monarch is called upon to bear. After everything that had happened, I could very much identify with feeling out-of-place and friendless, and so we grew even closer than before. Everything had changed for both of us--our entire worlds had been suddenly and drastically altered--and we were trying to find our places in this new life. But you were there, and you needed me, so I poured out on you all the attention and concern my aching heart longed to give. And by comforting you, I was comforted."

"What do you mean, Uncle?" Zuko asked in confusion. "How could I have helped you by...needing to be helped? If you were feeling that sad and all, wouldn't you rather have someone be concerned for you, instead of being concerned for someone else?" At his puzzlement, Iroh smiled at him with the slightly wistful tenderness that is sown by grief in a loving heart.

"When someone is taken away from us, whether by death or in some other way, there is an empty place in our lives where that person's life used to be," he explained. "No-one can take the place of the one we lost--each person is unique and precious, and no-one else can replace them, either in the world or in our hearts. Nonetheless, our love for them can be reborn as new love--and that is just as worthy of treasuring.

"You see, my nephew, although I've come to think of you as my own, I never regarded you as simply a replacement for...my son by birth, and I knew I could never take the place of your mother, even as I strove to fill in part the role she had played in your life. However, the deepening of our bond as uncle and nephew helped me to heal from the depth and intensity of my grief, and to realize that I still had a reason to keep on going. That reason was you, Zuko--with your own unique and priceless worth, you filled the void in my universe--or perhaps I should say that you led me to a part of my galaxy were the stars had not been snuffed out. In you I found their light again--different from before, yet no less beautiful and radiant.

"So between my spiritual journeys, I tried to be there for you in any way I could. In those early days, sometimes the only thing that made returning to the Fire Palace bearable was knowng that you were waiting for me to come home."

Looking as though he wasn't certain how to respond, Zuko confessed awkwardly, "I remember that you were...there for me, when no-one else really was--you helped me a lot. I'm not sure I could have gotten through...everything...without you." After hesitating a moment, he added, "Thank you."

"You are more than welcome," Iroh told him simply. ''Whenever you need help, you know all I wish for is to give it. But as for the reason I brought this up, at the time we were talking about I watched you come through the adversity that had found you, and you became a stronger and wiser person because of it. And although at present, the road our lives have taken is far more difficult and dark, that doesn't mean that you can't find peace and healing inside yourself. I believe you can and will rise above your tribulations, like a phoenix when it is reborn from the ashes--even after burning on its deathpyre." Aware that bringing mention into the metaphor of how exactly that creature gave up its life could either help Zuko or hurt him, because it was so close to the truth, the old general repeated an assurance that was often given because it was often needed.

"But you won't have to do any of it alone--you'll continue to be my dearest purpose for continuing on in this world, and I will be with you every step of the way."

Appearing to fumble for the right words, the prince attested, "I...that means a lot to me, Uncle. I don't think I could--well, it'd be alot harder without you here, that's for sure." For a moment there was silence, and then Zuko tentatively inquired, "Do you really think I could...rise above all this, like a phoenix from the ashes?"

"Yes, nephew, with all my heart," Iroh maintained, smiling kindly at his charge.

"I like that," murmured Zuko, and the shadow of an answering smile appeared to briefly warm his countenance, gracing it with a contentment that was calmer and more restful than the feverish, burning hope that had hitherto most often returned any light at all to the young exile's troubled amber gaze. Following this statement, the prince went on thoughtfully, "I do want to rise above my problems, even though, well..." Almost involuntarily, it seemed, his hand strayed toward his bandage, but then it stopped short. Appearing self-conscious once again, Zuko concluded, "I guess the phoenix and I have something in common as regards...our interactions with our element." Before Iroh could make an effort to lighten his nephew's spirits, however, the prince looked back up at his uncle, his good eye once more faintly shining.

"You know, I'm glad you think I'm like a phoenix--or that I will be," he amended, "--but actually, there's another sort of, you know, mystical animal that I'd like even more to be compared to--that is, if I were going to be compared to one."

"And what mystical animal is that?" queried the old general, although he thought he could guess the answer, knowing Zuko as well as he did.

"Well, to be honest, the creature I was thinking of was...a dragon." Although his nephew answered readily enough, he also looked unsure of himself while stating this reply, and revealed the destination of his train of thought in a rather flustered-seeming way. For the prince, it took courage to breach the wall of his natural reserve in order to disclose something of emotional import to him, which this evidently was. The moment after he'd crossed that barrier, however, it appeared as though embarrassment and shyness regarding things he cared greatly about had caught up to him after all, and imposed on him the need to disclaim his fascination with that species of legendary beasts as something trifling and unimportant.

Coloring slightly, Zuko gave a little, forced-sounding laugh, and excused this interest by adding, "I mean, always liked them--ever since I was a kid." Despite the light tone in which this last was spoken, Iroh was struck by a sudden renewal of the deep empathy he felt for his nephew, for the prince _had not stopped _being a child_. _However, in this past week he had indeed been compelled in some ways to leave childhood behind too soon, as he endured trials that no lad of thirteen should have to undergo.

_I won't let your innocence become lost beneath the ashes of bitterness and pain--not completely. at least, and not forever. Someday you will rise from your pyre, my dear wounded phoenix--I will commit everything I am to realizing this goal. And I will help you become able to trust again, although I know it's even harder do that after your pleas for mercy have been met by fire._

Returning to the present, he responded,"I know that you've always liked dragons, and I think that metaphor suits you."

"You really think so?" his nephew inquired, looking surprised.

"Yes, I do," Iroh confirmed. "A dragon fiercely protects those whom it loves, and it fights hard and long for what it believes in. I have observed these traits in you also."

"I didn't know having them made me like a dragon--I've just always been, well...like you said, I guess." Despite his apparent renewed embarrassment at the compliment being paid to him by mentioning this resemblance, Zuko seemed pleased that his uncle had made a comparison between the prince and a creature he greatly admired. This thought seemed to lead him toward further contemplation of less troubled memories of the past, for the young exile's gaze then turned inward. As though half to himself, Zuko expanded his soliloquy in an almost dreamy tone.

"When I was little, I used to pretend that I was a dragon--that I could fly around and breathe fire, and conquer all who stood against me. Or sometimes, I'd imagine I was a great General who was _called_ a Dragon, like you are, Uncle. If that were true, I bet I could fulfill my mission in no time." When he reminded himself of his recent fall from grace, the elusive glimmer of a lighter mood faded away from the lone right eye, and he appeared to withdraw back into his lonely shell where nothing kept him company but the darkness of his suffering and shame. "But I guess...maybe it's silly to daydream about things like that now, when they aren't really possible. Not any more."

Desiring to encourage his nephew, Iroh warmly imparted, "It isn't silly to dream about things that don't seem possible. Imagining how the world could be different is what propels history forward, to a new (and hopefully better) place. And even if what you dream about _is_ impossible in the physical world, there can still be truth and deep meaning waiting for you to discover it in the realm of the imagination, and of the spirit--that's why stories are so important, even if they didn't really happen, and likely never will. But as far as your mission goes, you do have a general with the nickname 'Dragon' here to help you," pointed out the said general.

"I...guess I do, Uncle--thanks." After a brief pause, Zuko then surmised, "It probably would have been more likely for me to become a mighty general like you if I'd lived in past times, like when my grandfather or great-grandfather was on the throne. Maybe then I could have accomplished great deeds and brought glory to my nation, and even been recognized as a hero." Something glittered in his good eye, and he turned away as though to conceal whatever emotion was escaping there from his devotion-ravaged heart. However, as he clarified the train of thought behind his reflections, the internal anguish from whence they sprang was also clearly heard by Iroh.

"Maybe--maybe I'd have had better luck in pleasing a past Fire Lord than...the present one. I mean, I want to do that, more than _anything_, but...I just can't seem to succeed, no matter how hard I try."

"Your father...has values common in our nation," Iroh attested with compassionate discretion, seeking a way to speak truly of his brother's ruthless tyranny without hurting yet more deeply the child by whom Ozai was held in the highest reverence. "As you heard in the war council chamber, many honor the will to strive after victory even that the cost of doing harm to the innocent. However, what the general whose plan you spoke against (and more than just him, I think) didn't realize is that every life, even that of a nameless foot soldier, is important, and should not be simply cast away. One quality I respect and admire in your character is that you care about treating everyone justly, and won't use those around you as mere tools in order to get what you want." While pointing this out, the former general was reminded of the fact that Zuko himself had been thrown away by his father, because Ozai no longer considered him to be remotely useful, either as a tool or as a son and heir. Whether because the son in question had also made this connection (though doubtless only subliminally, if he had), or for some other reason, Iroh's response appeared to have touched a nerve.

With sudden, unreasoning anger, the prince demanded, "So you're saying I can't win glory for the Fire Nation because I care about people?"

"Not at all," the old Dragon contradicted him mildly, startled and a bit concerned by this unprovoked and irrational flare of temper. "The glory of our nation--or any nation, for that matter--shouldn't and doesn't depend on placing power and triumph above all else. If you want proof that you can bring honor to your country and still be concerned for the wellfare of your peers and subordinates, look for it in me. Although I cannot fully condone all or even most of my celebrated accomplishments during my military career, I believe that treating those around me in a fair and thoughtful manner was at least somewhat important to me even in the days of my greatest fame and recognition."

"I see that you're right, now--I'm sorry I yelled," his nephew apologized, looking abashed. "It's just...it seems like whenever I let being concerned about how what happens will affect people get in the way of going along with what Azula or--or my father is doing, it all goes wrong. They tell me I'm weak and soft for caring, even though I'm only trying to do what's right, and to be fair to everyone! And now I've messed up the biggest time yet. I've tried so _hard _to figure out what I should change about myself, what I should be doing differently, but...I guess it's obvious that it just didn't work. You don't need to tell me why, Uncle." Sounding unutterably heartsick and weary, his voice sank to a barely audible level on the last words. Nonetheless, the softness of Zuko's tone as he went on couldn't hide the raw, tortured desolation that somehow found its way into his next pronouncement.

"Father says it's because I'm a useless failure, and as far as I can tell, he's right."

As compassion mercilessly rent Iroh's heart once more, he understood with greater lucidity the reason that his nephew had exhibited such a fierce reaction to the former general's explanation of a moment ago, and wondered why he hadn't realized it before. For all of his son's life, the Fire Lord had (whether he meant to or not, although much of it was certainly intentional on Ozai's part) instilled in him the certainty that Zuko was the one to blame for any major discrepancy between the beliefs and conduct of the Fire Lord and of Zuko himself. As with nearly all the instruction the prince received from his father, Zuko had unquestioningly accepted it. Consequently, his sense of honor impelled him to uphold Ozai's judgment, even if it meant verbally attacking himself (which it quite often did).

This much had been obvious to Iroh for a long time, but he thought the explanation for his nephew's outburst was stemmed from this fact in a more complicated and subtle way. It seemed the aggravation of the young exile's self-doubt had not ended when the old general had commented on the difference in values of his brother and of Zuko, and endorsed a characteristic of the prince in which he was at variance with his esteemed father. Driven at least internally to contradict the appreciation his uncle expressed of him, or not to hear that Iroh was commending him for a part of the prince's moral code which both the Fire Lord and his son took to be insufficiently respectful and obedient, the prince had likely interpreted the mention of this trait as yet one more reinforcement of the frequent and degrading sentiments that Ozai expressed on the subject.

In that case, it was no wonder he'd challenged his uncle's intended words of encouragemnt--Zuko wanted so desperately to gain his father's approval, which was now more than ever denied him. Although further wounding the prince by speaking ill of the Fire Lord was the last thing Iroh wanted, and although he knew that it would take much time and patience before his nephew would be able to perceive just how unworthy the one he adored was of that unconditional adoration, the old Dragon could not and would not allow himself to do nothing while his charge was tormented by a deeply ingrained but false conviction.

"No, Zuko, your father isn't right," Iroh softly corrected him. "I know how highly you value his regard, but I must remind you that in this, as in many things, my brother and I have very strong differences of opinion. However your father may see you, in my eyes you will always have priceless value, and so I cannot simply stand by while you continue to abuse yourself as someone of no worth. You are precious to me, nephew, and no matter how long it takes, I will keep on assuring you of that until you're able to let yourself accept it."

Seeming at a loss, the prince stammered, "I--I don't know what to say, Uncle. You always tell me that, and of course I don't...disbelieve you, or anything, but...I just don't see why you care so much about me, or why you should! I've been...banished and dishonored by the Fire Lord himself, and I'd have thought that someone as important and powerful as you would have better things to do than look after a disgraced exile!"

"I know you feel that way," the old Dragon answered gently, saddened as always by his nephew's inability to let himself accept mercy that he didn't think he deserved. "The only answer I can give you is that I love you, and that's why I'd rather be here taking care of you than anywhere else. "

"I'm confused, Uncle!" Zuko protested, squeezing his good eye shut as though to better sort through his inner turmoil. "You say I have worth, and...that you care about me, but--but Father thinks I'm...not fit to be his son." The visible eye came open again, and his next statement held no frustration or anger. In their wake, Iroh heard only a deep yet unresisting sorrow and regret. "I honor and respect both of you, and I don't want to disregard what either of you tell me, but...I just don't know how to believe everything you both say. I'm sorry--I can't see a way out of this dilemma, not right now. I wish I could."

"I don't have all the answers, either," acknowledged the former general. "But that's all right--we don't have to see the big picture right now. What we have to do is make the most of the present, even when it seems hopeless, and trust that if we keep on going, someday the future will lead us to a better place. I don't want to pull you in two directions about what your father and I each tell you, so I want you to know that it's okay if you're not sure you can completely agree right now with what I'm saying--it doesn't mean that you're being disloyal or disrespectful to me. I know that I have your love and respect, and I feel honored to have them.

"And you know," he added with a hint of a wry smile, "I don't envy my brother's throne in the least. However, if I were Fire Lord, as it was always believed I would be after your grandfather passed from this world, I would still consider myself very blessed indeed to have you as both my nephew and my subject, for I know there would not be many who would give me such loyalty as I know you would, or whom I would consider so dear." Looking unsure of how best to respond, Zuko repeated his earlier expression of gratitude.

"Thank you, Uncle. I--that really does mean a lot to me. And you would have my...loyalty and honor if you were Fire Lord, but Father has them too, and he _is_ Fire Lord, though I know you were going to be, and you do--have my loyalty, I mean--even though you're not, so..." Trailing off, the prince furrowed his brow in perplexity.

"You don't have to figure it all out right now," his uncle reassured him with a sympathetic chuckle. "No matter what our lives were like, you would still be very important to me."

"To be honest, I still can't really see why you...feel that way about me," Zuko professed humbly. "But since I can't change it...I guess I'm just going to have to accept it."

"I'm glad, and you're right--I meant what I said about it not changing," reaffirmed Iroh. "But now, I think it's high time we (or you, I should say) got started on this luncheon, which I can assure you is truly delectable, having tasted it before our conversation. Spirits!--I seem to have committed the grave offense of neglecting to pour you any tea! Would you like some now?" In response, his nephew regarded the teapot dubiously.

"Well, I _have_ had a lot of tea lately..."

"You're not required to have any right now if you don't want to," the old general told him, amused by his charge's reluctance. "But just so you know, drinking plenty of tea and staying hydrated will help you to recover."

"Oh, well in that case...I guess it would be a good idea." Sighing in resignation, the prince held out his teacup.

Taking it, his uncle cheerfully avouched, "I would like nothing better than to pour some for you."

-

* * *

-

After lunch, Iroh and Zuko sat a while longer on the deck, enjoying the cool, refreshing breezes from the surrounding ocean. During this time, they spoke of far less weighty subjects than in most of their recent conversations, and dedicated as Iroh was to helping his nephew sort through the struggle and conflict inside him, the old Dragon also felt that it was healthy for both of them to have a respite every once in a while from soul-searching and inner quandary. Eventually, Iroh suggested that his nephew return with him to their quarters and at least take some time to rest, even if he didn't actually sleep. After all, it was only the prince's first day out of bed, and he still had plenty of recovering to do before he regained full health. To this Zuko assented, and confessed that he was feeling a bit tired out. And so they started back to their quarters, Iroh once supporting his nephew as they walked.

On the return trip, they passed by another member of the crew. After Iroh had greeted his friend (for such he was now, like most of the other crewmembers) by name, the former general politely inquired if the man would do him a favor by seeing to it that the remains of his and Zuko's mid-day meal were cleared away. He explained that he wouldn't dream of adding to the work of those who kept the ship running, but that his own first duty was to look after his nephew. When the crewmember responded by declaring that the reason they were here was to serve the general and the prince, Iroh made his appreciation known, and he continued on with his charge. As before, Zuko often had to halt in order to catch his breath, and the old Dragon was perfectly content to wait while he did so.

Apparently this bothered the prince, however, for after one such instance he looked up at his uncle and queried a bit timorously, "Does...having to stop so often mean that I'm weak?"

"No, it just means you're recovering," the former general certified. "All soldiers need time to rest and heal when they've been wounded." Although his nephew made no reply, his furrowed brow unknit somewhat upon hearing this. Glad to have reassured Zuko, his uncle guessed that part of the reason was that the prince was pleased to be compared to a soldier--Zuko had harbored an immense fascination with and love for tales of great deeds done in wartime ever since he'd been old enough to listen to them.

When they reached their destination, the prince indicated to Iroh that he wasn't ready to fully undress and get back in bed just yet. So instead, for the rest of the afternoon he lay half-reclining on top of the blanket, leaning back against his pillows. While the hours left till supper meandered by, uncle and nephew passed the time in a comparatively relaxed manner, not talking much--or if they did, not about profound and difficult subjects. As before, the old Dragon was heartened to note that experiencing a period of relative serenity appeared to be doing Zuko good. During the frequent lapses into silence, however, Iroh observed that the prince's forehead would often wrinkle once again, and the corner of his mouth turn downward in a perplexed frown.

In order to keep his nephew's mind occupied with something other than what was troubling him, the old general brought out from among his possessions a box filled with some of the scrolls he had collected, and set them on the low table beside Zuko's bed. That way, the prince could read them when they weren't conversing, or when he desired an activity that better fitted with his natural introversion. Among these scrolls were several about the Fire Nation's militaristic history, as well as various stories and legends from many other peoples (for Iroh had learned to appreciate all the different sources of knowledge that the world had to give). With a fervency that seemed almost born of relief, Zuko accepted his uncle's offer to let him peruse them, and Iroh understood his eagerness--the prospect of losing himself in far away times and places would for his nephew probably seem like a much-needed veil that the prince could pull over his awareness of their rather less than desirable circumstances, numbing the pain like ice on a burn.

While he read, the former general set to work on something else that he'd been meaning to undertake as soon as he was released for a time other, more pressing matters (namely, caring for Zuko). If their ship continued on its present course, they'd reach the Earth Kingdom in about two weeks, and the time was drawing near when they would have to decide exactly were they wanted to make port. In that place, they would replenish their store of supplies (of which they didn't have massive amounts, having left the Fire Nation so quickly), and generally make any preparations necessary for the next stage of their voyage.

But where then? How would they chase a century-old trail with any hope of success? To seek an answer for this dilemma, Iroh sat down at a small table across the room from Zuko (that way, he could give his nephew space to himself, but also keep an eye on him). He then spread across it several more of scrolls from his collection, as well as maps drawn at various points in the past couple hundred years (he'd included the maps and scrolls he possessed from the time of Avatar Roku's life as well). These he scoured for any clue that might lead them to the new (relatively speaking) Avatar, making notes with a quill and a spare bit of parchment of his discoveries, however trivial they might appear at present. More than ever before, the former general was grateful for his abundant knowledge (and in many cases, experience) of the lands of the world and their histories, for he knew that he had spoken truly when informing Ozai that their respective nephew and son would have an even smaller chance of accomplishing the task his father had given him without his uncle's wisdom and advice.

From time to time (actually, it was quite often, to tell the truth), the old Dragon would pause in his work to look over at Zuko. Intent upon his own occupation, the prince was oblivious to both his uncle's watchful gaze and the fact that Iroh was pouring all his attention and skill into making possible his nephew's only way home, despite his awareness that realistically, it was an almost hopeless endeavor. (Iroh, however, had found that even realism could at times be vastly over-rated, or at least that it shouldn't completely supplant hope and faith). Once or twice, the former general glanced up to see that his nephew had dozed off, a scroll laying forgotten across his stomach where it had fallen from his hand. Unable to tear his eyes from the slumbering prince, Iroh experienced (as he often had since that day in the arena) a renewed upsurging of fierce, protective tenderness toward this young one who was so very helpless without him.

With a tightening throat and blurring vision, he thought again of what had first begun drawing his nephew and himself even closer than before. Recalling the horrified grief and emotional anguish that had surmounted him after the theft by an enemy sword and a cruel twist of fate of his treasure by birth, the old general once more thanked all the spirits that he had not been forced to endure a second such plundering the day of the Agni Kai. (The fact that his own brother was the reason that Zuko had almost been taken away from him no longer greatly surprised Iroh, although it still saddened and angered him. After all, it would not have been the first time the younger son of Azulon had stolen from the elder.) When the old general noticed that his charge had fallen asleep, however, Iroh found that he wasn't given long to quietly observe and reflect. Each time, after a few minutes the prince woke up and promptly re-immersed himself in the strokes of black ink that provided for him an escape which had never been so welcome.

On one such occasion, as Iroh was turning back to his work, the former general remembered another task that would have to be dealt with at some point. Having been occupied much of the time with tending his nephew, Iroh had not yet informed Lieutenant Jee and the rest of the crew of their journey's purpose. As far as the old Dragon was aware, all that the others on board knew was that suddenly they had been selected to accompany the newly banished prince into exile. At some point (and likely a near one), they would have to be told why they were here--the crew would be able to be of more assistance if they informed of what they were trying to accomplish, and more importantly, they had a right to know. However, Iroh wanted to talk it over with Zuko before he disclosed many of the details of the cause for their departure from the Fire Nation. They might not be able to conceal it forever--at least, not all of it (and Iroh didn't believe they should)--but not everything was necessary for the crew to be told. If the one whom that story most nearly concerned was reluctant to completely reveal the manner of his disgrace, then his uncle would certainly try not to give away any more than he had to.

When evening drew near, the former general requested of the sentry at the door that supper be brought for them, and before long it was. While they ate, he and his nephew discussed what the prince had read that afternoon. Still appearing entranced by the content of the scrolls he'd been lent, Zuko talked about them almost animatedly. Unlike earlier that afternoon, he did not simply return to silently turning over his misfortunes during the (suddenly very few) pauses in their speech. Now, whenever the flow of conversation was petering out, the prince's expression would instead become almost fearful as he cast about anxiously for another topic from his reading material to keep it going. As a fellow veteran of the past week, Iroh could understand his charge's dread of letting all of the darkness and torment wash back over him as it did when he awoke every morning, dissolving whatever solace was brought to him by sleep like a sandcastle in the tide. Now that Zuko had found a way out of his depression and heartache that seemed more promising than his earlier visit to the deck, he didn't want to leave it, fleeting and insubstantial though it might turn out to be in actuality.

Still he craved his beloved Lord's acceptance as one dying of thirst might yearn for water, and still the contemptuous fury he'd instead been granted was burning him in more ways than one. Nonetheless, not even the prince's fealty and pain could induce him to dwell on them constantly and without exception--it was simply too heavy a load for him to carry. After all that had taken place in the last few days, Iroh knew that his nephew's mental and emotional resources were almost completely exhausted. Beneath the surface of their present relative serenity, the nightmare still lurked, but right now it was as though all that could be protested or counseled about it had been, and the young exile lacked the energy and will to drag what was troubling him deeper down back up from the depths. Because he recognized how badly his charge needed rest and peace, Iroh aided him in fueling the small but sheltering fire of their conversation--_a gentle blaze, this time--_to keep the shadows away. Tempering their speech with guidance and gentleness, the old Dragon did all he could to turn Zuko's escape into a true haven. Soon enough the typhoon would rise once more in it's howl of fury all around them, but right now it seemed as though they had come to the eye of the storm.

After they'd finished supper (and Iroh had attended to his nephew's wound), the prince was still talking avidly about the scrolls as well as related matters while his uncle saw him settled into bed. Although the hour was fast approaching when they would both usually try to get what rest they could, the old general was loathe to start winding down their conversation quite yet. Well he knew the monster of agony and despair that waited to stalk through Zuko's dreams as soon as the lamp was extinguished, and that the prince had every right to fear it. Although his charge would eventually have to face his problems if he wanted to work through them, Iroh didn't want to force him to return to that bitter struggle sooner than he had to.

"I still can't believe the story of how Grandfather Azulon conquered the Hu Sin provinces!" Zuko exclaimed as his uncle listened from his chair by the prince's bedside. "Did you know at one point he had six injuries and kept on fighting?"

"My father was a looked up to by our people as a great leader," the former general conceded, finding himself struck by the irony of the fact that he was able to keep his nephew distracted from the subject the prince's own father by discussing that of Iroh and Ozai.

"When I was little," Zuko went on contemplatively, "I always used to fantasize about one day doing great things like that for the Fire Nation--I mean, I told you that at lunch, but reading all these scrolls made me think about it some more. I've loved a lot of these stories since I was a kid. So you see," he added defensively, "I _did_ listen in history class--at least, I tried to--even though I can't remember all the names and dates, like Azula. She and...and Father thought I didn't pay attention, and they acted like I was stupid or slow because I couldn't always keep everything straight that I learned. It's hard to rack your brains on the spot, though, when people ask you a question about history--especially in front of other people. I don't like failing when it's just me to see it, but I _hate_ doing it in front of someone else."

Barely a week ago, he had failed in front of someone else--as well as a whole crowd, but they were as nothing compared to that one. As Zuko made his declaration in a low yet passionate tone, his uncle could see the prince's memory of this written on his face as plainly as one could have seen the mark of blistered red that lay beneath his bandage. Reminding Iroh of his premonition at the Agni Kai, the nightmare beginning to break through the fragile walls of the shelter his nephew had found in stories from the past. If it had to crumble away, however, the old general would be there to rescue Zuko from whatever unseen horrors stalked outside it, and to help him find a new and more lasting refuge.

"I've no doubt you listened," Iroh said aloud. "I know it's hard to remember everything, but considering how much you love those stories, it would be silly for someone to accuse you of never paying attention in your history lessons. You know, sometimes the spirit of a story, the message it carries, is more important than all the little details, like those names and dates that gave so much trouble to you (and also to me, as it turns out). But I know you're smart and brave, and I believe you can still do great things for the Fire Nation--and that you will--no matter what anyone says."

"I guess this is my chance to do that--I mean, if I succeed in capturing the Avatar," Zuko mused. "I just never expected that I wouldn't...have a home to go back to, when I finally got my chance to make a big difference in the world."

"The future rarely turns out how we think it will, and at times..." For a moment, the sorrows carried by the old Dragon weighed especially heavily on him, and Iroh paused to recompose himself before going on."There are times when you simply cannot see how you'll get through today and tomorrow, or even why you'd want to. I realize that right now, your life is at a place like that, but I don't want you to give up hope. Destiny is a funny thing, but if you let it guide you, then I don't believe it will let you down."

Looking unconvinced, Zuko replied, "I hope you're right. I just wish...but no." Appearing decisive, he raised his voice emphatically. "There's no point in 'just wishing' any more, and I'm_ through_ with it! It won't change anything, and it's only slowing me down with thinking about...how things used to be, and how they could have been. Sure I want to--to go home, and regain my honor, and to make my father proud--I want it more than _anything!_--but if I'm going to do that, and accomplish great things for my nation along the way, I have to stop moping around and do something about it. No matter what it takes, I _will_ find the Avatar, even if it takes every day of the rest of my life. Like you said, I never give up without a fight--and in this battle, only death will stop me from winning," he asserted grimly.

"Determination and resolve are admirable qualities to possess, but it's all right to wish that things could be different," his uncle softly reminded him. "You're convalescing right now, and learning to deal with being in a new and difficult situation. You need to take it slow, and I don't blame you for feeling sad and angry--you're not the only one currently dealing with those emotions. You know, even when the loss you've experienced isn't that of a person, often you still need to grieve. That's part of the healing process, and it takes _time_."

In a way, Iroh thought, the loss they'd both experienced in this case was indeed that of a person, for one whom they respectively called father and brother had been stolen from them by the hunger for absolute power. Ambition was indeed a cruel monster, for it not only poisoned the hearts and minds of those it ensnared, but also took them away from the ones to whom their former selves had been dear. Laying these reflections aside, the former general returned his attention to his nephew, whom it wasn't too late to save. The prince, however, continued to protest, seeming frustrated and upset.

"I don't want to contradict you, Uncle, but what I'm trying to tell you is...I'm tired of taking it slow, and convalescing! I want to _do_ something, to get started on this mission so I can get it over with instead of having it hanging over me all the time! I want to start working on the solution to my disgrace and exile, and work toward getting my honor back!" While the yearning in his voice remind, all at once the vigor and emphasis deserted his forceful words. As he went on, Zuko instead appeared dejected and almost pitiful, like a child who knows he cannot have that for which he longs most keenly.

"I want my honor, and I want to be back in my rightful place as Crown Prince of the Fire Nation. That's my destiny, and I want it _back!_. But instead of having all that, and being who I was just a _week_ ago, now I'm dishonored and banished, and I have to succeed where my father, grandfather, and great-grandfather all failed (though I _won't_ fail, this time, or at least die before I do, because my honor depends on it). And on top of everything else, my fath--the Fire Lord's anger is even branded on my _face_. Everything's gone horribly wrong, Uncle. This isn't how it's supposed to be, and I _don't_ like it!"

"I know you don't," acknowledged the old Dragon with quiet yet acute empathy. "That's how I felt, after Ba Sing Se, and I believe you did as well (though perhaps not as intensely as you do now). But you know one thing that hasn't changed through all of this, and that doesn't depend on your success in capturing the Avatar?"

"What's that, Uncle?" In his voice, Iroh once again caught a note of the exhausted, hopeless desperation which was becoming common in the young exile's words and expression these days. Longing to give solace and hope to his nephew, the former general smiled reassuringly at him as he answered.

"That is my love for you, Zuko. As I told you before, it cannot be altered by anything you do, any misfortune that befalls you, or any opinion that others possess of you."

Appearing as before to shy away from how freely Iroh disclosed this rather emotional assertion, Zuko dropped his gaze and replied with greater formality than was usual for him, as though to hide or compensate for his uncertainty.

"Thank you, Uncle--that's very, um, kind of you, though...I still don't see _why_ you should care so much about me--just that you do." As he made this confession, guileless sincerity won for a moment over embarrassment. The prince gazed questioningly at his uncle, and his expression gave away his utter bewilderment at the unconditional love for him that was rooted so deeply in the old general's heart. Quickly averting his eyes once more, however, Zuko then retreated back into a slightly safer topic.

"But of course, I still want to make my father proud of me, too--that is, if it's even possible for someone who's 'lucky to be born' to gain the respect of the Fire Lord. I want...I would _die_ just to hear him say that he cared--at all--about me. To know that--that he could remember me ever again without scorn, and anger. But no matter how my father sees me, or what he does to me--though I'm not saying he was wrong to do...what he did--he'll still have all my honor and...devotion." Flushing somewhat, the prince fell silent, seeming to wonder if he'd revealed too much of his inner thoughts and desires. After a moment, however, it appeared that along with his trust of Iroh, the need to open up propelled him cautiously onward.

"You know, I...there's not really anyone I look up to more than him--my father, I mean. It's not that I...don't respect and think highly of you, too--I think you know a lot of wise things, and...I really do want to listen to what you say, even if I don't always act that way. Still, though...how I feel about my father is different, even from that. That's why I...get so worked up when what you say doesn't seem to fit with what he'd say. That is, your advice is definitely important to me--and of course I'm loyal to you, like I said this afternoon--but I'm also...I'm also my father's loyal son. And I will be forever, even--even if he never thinks of me again, or ever forgives me for what I've done."

As though to humbly accept his decreed fate, the young exile bowed his head as he spoke. And yet, the fact that his unquestioning submission was by no means easy for him was betrayed by the tension apparent between the tightly furrowed visible eyebrow, and the strips of white cloth beneath which its counterpart should have been. Rather than pursuing the subject of Zuko's opinion of himself and how it differed from that of his uncle, the latter decided it was time to further state his own belief in the prince's worth by bringing out the parallel between Zuko's love for and desire to be loyal to his father, and the fact that Iroh felt similarly and just as strongly about his nephew.

"I honor your devotion, and although there are times when I cannot commend your father's actions, it's all right for you to think differently about them from me. You truly live out the words of our national anthem, where it says that our 'flames' are supposed to burn for the Fire Lord, and I don't disapprove of you for being loyal to him. But you know what? I am as devoted to you as you are to him, though in a slightly different way. And so while your flame burns for your father, my flame burns just as fiercely for you."

Stated thus, in terms of the loyalty and devotion a Fire Nation subject ought to bear toward his Lord, the way in which the former general regarded his nephew was made real to Zuko. At least, that was Iroh's guess as to why the prince was suddenly staring at him in astonishment, looking as though he wanted to speak but couldn't find the words. So after several attempts, he instead sat up and struggled as best he could while in bed to make a bow to his uncle in the style of their nation. Deeply moved by the young exile's attempt to communicate his amazement and gratitude in action when speech failed him, the old Dragon took his nephew's carefully positioned hands in his own, and the prince looked curiously up at him. Because Iroh had also found that the power of speech had deserted him in the face of experiencing truths too deep for words, he laid his hand on the side of his charge's head, and gathered him into his arms.

Appearing at last to be released from awkwardness and uncertainty, Zuko whispered, '"Thank you, Uncle."

"You don't have to thank me," Iroh murmured tenderly, also having found his voice. "But you are more welcome than I can ever tell you." It was a long time before either of them let go.

-

-end of this chapter-

-

A/N: And so it begins and ends with Zuko in his uncle's arms...

(Everybody all together now: Aww...

Zuko: What?!

Iroh: -smiles benignly-

Sorry, for some reason I can't do asterisks on here.)

I've actually been planning to put that little dialogue in the ending author's note of this chapter for a while lol... (Actually, I've started making it kind of a tradition that there's a moment in each chapter where they're in a similar situation, since we all love to see Iroh comforting Zuko by gathering him into his arms... Hence the "Aw...") But anyway, on to business. It was hard in a lot of places to wrestle the words into submission--i mean, find exactly the right way to express something. But I think I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. Oddly enough, in the original draft of this chapter, it ended at the first break, and one of the oldest (and one of my favorite) parts is the bit about "Benders can still burn." (Poor Zuko...he needs a hug... Iroh: Don't worry--I'm on it. ;) ) But then I decided it was way too short, and now it may be the longest chapter so far. So at least you get lots to read, even tho you had to wait a while to do so.

Speaking of which, I'm not really sure when I'll be able to post the next chapter. But don't worry--I do intend to finish this (unless something horrible happens in the series finale--like someone I love dies--and I'm so depressed I have to take a break from Avatar, but hopefully it won't be like that). But you see, I'm about to start college in the fall (it's hard to believe I'm a high school graduate now...and I've just given way my age, but I don't mind too much), and I'm not sure how much time I'll have between classes and homework and all that jazz (tho I probably will have some, and I'm sure I'll still want to work on this fic enough to make time to do it). And before then, my family has a big three-week trip coming up in a few days (visiting family--I wuv my fammy ), and so I may not have much time this summer, either. (And let me tell you, in the past several days I have worked hard to get this done before we leave, so that you guys can read it). But i think in some ways i'd like to take a break from working on this--just to replenish my mental resources and such, since i have to pour them into something like this to make it turn out well.

But before I end this note, one more thing--as far as notes on the text go, I'd just like to say that making references to the FN national anthem (as heard in The Blind Bandit lol) is something i like to do in my various fanworks (another example is in at least the second most recent--number 11, I believe--of my poems in the collection From the Ashes, which I invite to read and if you like, review). Even tho it was meant humorously in the episode, I've found that referring to those words ("O Firelord, my flame burns for thee") can add a certain depth to a poem or fic, since it seems to fit the devotion Zuko has had toward his father. Also, I'll mention that while writing what Iroh and Zuko are thinking and feeling, I draw a lot from my own experience with those kinds of thoughts and emotions. For example, when things aren't going perfectly in real life, I also tend to lose myself in stories (like Avatar). Now, I'm not saying that's necessarily a bad thing, or that my life isn't going well right now, but that was an example for you. ;)

Anyway there are two more chapters and an epilogue that I have in mind after this, so I hope you enjoyed the third-to-last chapter (which is kind of sad, to think about it ending eventually--for me at least), and please review!

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